


Sooner, Longer

by annieca



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieca/pseuds/annieca
Summary: When Hermione writes Sirius Black asking for advice on becoming an Animagus, she thinks it would just be a way to not focus on the parents she just lost. But through letters and late night conversations, somehow they become more. So when Sirius falls through the Veil, she vows to do anything it takes to get him back. Including impersonating a Squib ballerina she met at St. Mungo's and seducing Peter Pettigrew. "I wish I had met you sooner, so I could love you longer." A Sirius/Hermione fic





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure,” Kingsley asked her, looking over the plan she had put to parchment in front of him. “What if it doesn’t work?”

The war-weary woman nodded. “I’m sure. If it doesn’t work, I’m not any worse off. But if it does… I’ll get my best friend back.” Hermione admitted, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“In more ways than one, I imagine.” Kingsley pulled a fresh piece of parchment off a pile on his desk and wrote a note on it. “This will give you access to the Department of Mysteries without question. Try not to bother the Unspeakables if you can. They’re not used to your kind of pestering,” he teased.

Hermione gave the smallest of smiles. “Of course, Minister.”

Once she was out of his office her hand instantly pushed aside her navy trench coat to her hip flask. The blue anti-anxiety potion was always with her now. War did have a way of toying with one’s mind, returning the clock pieces just a little bent. So when a trigger happened, it was as if the whole world stopped and she was left with a horrible clicking sensation of something trying to return to a normal that would never again exist. And it seemed like everything triggered her. After an embarrassing panic attack in Diagon Alley at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, she kept the potion in a hip flask. The apothecarist had been sympathetic but warned her that it could easily become addicting.

Hermione shook her head. No, she needed to be totally clear-headed for this. It wasn’t terribly dangerous, but it did require finesse and concentration. She made her way to the Department of Mysteries, giving her note to the Head Unspeakable. Once she was in front of the Veil, Hermione took off her flask and her coat, revealing jeans, heeled boots, and a green blouse. _You can’t do this_ , the voices began. _Even if you can, what’s to say he’ll want anything to do with you?_

“Shut up,” she growled to the voices, fingering the heavy platinum ring with a black diamond stone on a chain around her neck. She placed the memory vial in front of her carefully - she wouldn’t need to uncork it until later in the spell. So she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, raised her wand, and began the incantation.

Hermione didn’t remember much of the spell casting - she had practiced it so many times that she was almost in a trace, muscle memory doing its job. After several minutes, but what had felt like an eternity, Hermione uncorked Peter Pettigrew’s memories and sat back on her heels. Once the memory finished making its way into the Veil, it was the moment of truth. She opened her eyes, breath held in anticipation.

A young man with scruff and short wavy black hair walked out. He looked at his unblemished arms and hands with awe. But then he looked up and his eyes met hers. “Hermione?” he asked quietly, though the name seemed to echo in the vast chamber.

“Hi,” she paused, unsure, “Sirius.” The man in front of her resembled Sirius - the same hair, the same grey eyes - but he was different. No Azkaban tattoos, no haggard, haunted look, and he looked at least a decade younger. That was certainly a surprise - nobody had mentioned the deaging in her research. But, then again, nobody had actually attempted the spell on someone who had disappeared through the Veil.

Sirius’s face broke out into a huge smile. “You did it!”

Hermione nearly collapsed in happiness. Instead, she threw herself into his arms. “I did!” she said with a laugh.

***

_4 Years Earlier_

_Dear Snuffles,_

    I hope you’re doing well - not having to eat too many rats! I would ask you this in person, but I imagine your answer will involve a list of books and this way I don’t have to look like a fool scribbling something down while you’re telling me. Well, that and I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Plus, this way you can answer on your own time in case you need to do some research or look through your own notes. Oh, what am I kidding, you probably don’t have notes - you had Harry’s Dad to talk things through and you weren’t me. Oh dear...I am rambling, aren’t I?

I was wondering if you could give me some advice on becoming an animagus. There, I said it. I’ve wanted to become one every since our first Transfiguration class where Professor McGonagall transformed. It seemed like the pinnacle of magical strength and control for Transfiguration. I feel that each magical discipline has its own pinnacle - Defense against the Dark Arts might be a Patronus, Charms might be something like wards or something like wandless, nonverbal magic. And while I know there are some disciplines I will never reach that summit (Care of Magical Creatures comes to mind), Transfiguration is the one I have most wanted to achieve. I would ask Professor McGonagall but she knows me a bit too well to believe me when I’m asking for “research.” I have been researching with what few books the Hogwarts Library has, but most of them are in the Restricted Section, and it's the summer.

It could really help Harry, I think, depending on what animal I transform into. He really needs all the help he can get.

_Hermione_

Dear Hermione,

    I’m in a house now, so no more rats for me. There’s plenty of ghouls and other Dark things to keep me full if I don’t want food. As for books on becoming an animagi, unfortunately, a lot of them were at Potter Manor or the flat Remus and I shared, and I’m not sure what happened to them. I’ll start checking another library I know - there’s a few books I don’t know the titles of, but I would recognize their covers anywhere. I suspect you’ll be by at some point this summer, so I’ll start a collection. For the ones I can’t find in this library, you might check the bookstore in Knockturn to see if you can find them. Last time I discussed this with Kingsley, he said the Ministry was regulating the practical books so they knew who was interested in becoming animagi. I guess they didn’t want more unregistered animals like James and me.

It’s a noble goal, and to be honest, a bloody useful one. If you have to go on the run as I have done, it is easier to hide. Well… scratch that. It’s easier to hide that you’re not a human. However, it will really depend on your form. A lioness isn’t exactly going to be easy to hide in the Forbidden Forest. Not that the forest hasn’t hidden stranger or more dangerous creatures before. But, you have to promise me you’ll be careful and owl me when you get past the theoretical stage if you decide to go through with it. I will help you in whatever way I can, I just want you to be safe about it.

_Snuffles_

Dear Snuffles,

    Are you worried about me? That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself. Thank you for getting the books together. I’ve reread the portions of transfiguration texts that mention animagi over and over again, hoping that they’ll give me some sort of new information. I hate it when I can’t find the answer to something!

    Glad to hear you’re not solely surviving on rats anymore. I can’t imagine they’re a balanced diet anyway! I’m at the Burrow for now so I’m pretty sure that Molly is going to try to fatten me up. She also insists on making me eat food I despise. Like radishes. Who in their right mind enjoys eating radishes? I don't care if they're healthy and all that. They're disgusting. It's times like these that I miss my parents from before Hogwarts. I had to try three bites of whatever food we were having, but after that, it was up to me. I knew where they kept the bread and jam if I got hungry.

Harry hasn't been answering my owls. I think he's upset over Cedric’s death. I mean, it doesn't surprise me. No, it just makes me sad and worries me. Ron says he's not writing him either, but Ron is rubbish at keeping in touch. Maybe you should try. He's sure to answer you!

Hermione

_Hermione,_

I found more books than I thought I would, and I also managed to find a few of my old notes. Hopefully, they'll be of some help to you. I have such vivid and happy memories of going through the process with James. You have to keep a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire mouth and they tend to make you drool. James nearly swallowed the bloody thing several times. And then there was trying to keep it a secret from Minnie. There were a few times I had to sweet talk her into ignoring what might have been plainly obvious to those who had undergone the process. That's probably one of the reasons she doesn't like being called Minnie to this day!

I wholeheartedly agree. Radishes are disgusting. Much too peppery. Padfoot especially hates them. Also can’t stand peas, in case you were wondering.

I've written to Harry, but Hermione, remember, he needs time to process. It might backfire pushing him too soon - it always did with James. I hope I'll get to see him soon and I'll evaluate from there.

_Snuffles_

_***_

The minute the Weasleys and Hermione entered the house, Hermione could feel the dark magic in the air, settling over her like a dark, damp cloak. She felt her magic shift uncomfortably inside her - it wasn’t happy about being here - wherever this was with its peeling wallpaper and mothball smell. Crookshanks hissed in his basket at her feet. The twins, Ginny, and Molly had left her and Ron in the hallway, muttering about finding the best bedrooms or making food for the meeting. That’s when she noticed Sirius, standing at the end of the hallway leaning on a coat rack, his short wavy black hair almost glowing from the light in the room behind him.

“You weren’t kidding about the ghouls and dark things,” Hermione told Sirius, “I can feel it oozing around us. What is this place, anyway?”

“Welcome to Grimmauld Place, the London ancestral home of the Blacks and the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Sirius said with a smirk and a bow.

“What are you talking about Hermione? Ghouls and dark things?” Ron asked from beside her, confused.

“Oh, I sent a letter to Sirius about a Transfiguration assignment. Told him not to eat too many rats.”

“Definitely haven’t been doing that. Kreacher, as disgusted as he is in me, despises rats.” Sirius paused, glancing to see if naming the creature would cause him to appear. When he didn’t, Sirius continued, “I’ll show you guys to your rooms.”

“And then the library?” Hermione questioned hopefully.

Sirius chuckled, “Yes, but don’t touch the books yet. Remus and I haven’t finished inventorying the books that might take your flesh off or sap your magical core.” He pointed towards a curtained section of the wall ahead. “Try not to be too loud or it’ll set off my mother’s portrait.”

“Silencing charm not work?” Ron asked as they began to climb the stairs. Hermione almost started at the sound of the boy behind her. She was so excited to see the books Sirius had located for her, that she had completely forgotten about the redhead. Apparently, she hadn’t lost the over-eagerness for knowledge she was known for those first few weeks at Hogwarts like she thought she might have.

“Unfortunately, no. Silencing charms, trying to remove her from the wall… I’ve even tried burning the portrait but she’s there and she’s opinionated - blood purist scum that she was in life continues on in death” They climbed two flights of stairs before Sirius paused in front of an open door. “Looks like Ginny found it already. This is your and her’s, Hermione. Library is down the hall at the end.” He winked at her, “There’s a pile under the desk that might be of interest to you.”

***

The library was not quite the size of the Hogwarts one, but it still made Hermione’s breath go shallow and her mouth drop open. It was like that Muggle film she had seen before ever learning about the magical world - _Beauty and the Beast_. She remembered coming home from the film thinking what she would give for a library like that - somewhere where she could be with her friends that never teased or taunted her for being too much of a know-it-all or a swot, somewhere where she felt safe and most like herself. She knew she would always be someone who thirsted for knowledge - she had been a curious and precocious child for as long as she could remember and even before that if her parents’ stories about her toddlerhood held any truth.

Despite only being one floor, the shelves seemed to stretch infinitely upward on three sides of the room, unbroken except for a small fireplace. The fourth wall was windows and window seats partially hidden by thick green velvet curtains. The floor of some medium-color wood held stacks of tomes scattered throughout the room, though the majority were concentrated by the blanket-draped couch and the massive desk. If the room wasn’t so large the desk would have overwhelmed the room. Instead, it looked like it fit exactly, matching the two wooden sliding ladders that stood on either side of the room.

Hermione wanted to run her hands over the spines of the dusty books as if she could absorb their knowledge purely by osmosis. But right as her fingertips went out to the nearest shelf she remembered Sirius’ warning and stopped. Her eyes passed over titles that reminded her that though the Black ancestors may have loved knowledge, not all of it was safe for her to partake in - at least not yet. _Skinning Your Enemies Alive - Wandlessly!_ and _Why Muggles Have No Reason to Continue Existing_ were just two of the ones that Hermione had absolutely no desire to touch.

Finally, Hermione made her way over to the desk littered with parchment, stray quills, and what looked like chocolate wrappers (Professor Lupin’s no doubt). She pulled the pile of books from under the desk, pausing in confusion when she saw the title of the top one: _Witch Weekly, Vol. 1 to 100_ . She opened it and found a witch in a dress that would look more at home in Versailles with Marie Antoinette than in the 1990s. Flicking through she was disappointed to find every single page filled with _Witch Weekly_ issues rather than anything to do with Transfiguration or becoming an animagus. Glancing at the stack, Hermione noted every single book like the topmost one.

She flopped on the couch with a huff. “How in the world are _these_ supposed to help me?” She heard a chuckle behind her and whipped her head behind her to see Sirius standing with a smirk.

“Not a fan of _Witch Weekly_ , Hermione?”

“Not particularly. Too,” Hermione scrunched up her nose, “girly. Gossiping about the most eligible bachelor and how to woo the wizard of your choice, please. The recipes are occasionally interesting, but I’d much rather read _Transfiguration Today_ or _Charmed Monthly_.”

Sirius’ chuckle turned into a full laugh as he walked towards her. “Well then, good thing these aren’t actually a tabloid.”

“But they…”

“Place your hand on the cover and say, ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’”

“Seriously?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at the older man.

“That I am. Just trust me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pun and did as she was told. While the cover stayed the same when she flipped through the book she noticed it had transformed to be a text about the animagus process. “How did you do that?”

“Some tinkering with some illusion charms and then keying it to your magical signature, which you just did. Anyone who looks over your shoulder will just see _Witch Weekly_ issues. You’ll see the books about becoming an animagus. And should you actually want hair-taming advice, you could read it as _Witch Weekly_ by not saying the passcode.”

“How can it be two texts at once? The laws of physics say you can’t…”

Sirius brushed off her questions with a wave of his hand. “Putting your hand back on the cover and saying, ‘Mischief Managed,’ will turn it back.” He paused, and Hermione had the distinct impression she was being surveyed. “You do promise you’ll be careful?”

“Yes, Sirius. Honestly! In all Harry’s told you, what makes you think that I would be reckless?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe using a Time-Turner illegally and breaking a convicted mass murderer out of a cell or wolf-calling on the night when a werewolf is loose on Hogwarts grounds?” Sirius said dryly.

***

Hermione was curled up on the couch in the library a few days later, a worn blanket draped over her feet, a steaming mug of tea in her hand, and one of the Transfiguration texts on her lap when someone came in muttering about “that bloody mutt.” She turned to find her former Defense professor running his hands through his sandy hair and shaking his head. “Professor?”

Remus jumped. “Hermione! I didn’t know you were in here. I thought you were…” He searched for an activity.

“Dusting the parlour?” She suggested, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, neither Ron nor I can do it correctly. Molly sent us off to find something else to do. I think she’s getting a bit sick of us, to be honest.”

“And Ron is…”

“Mooning over his Chudley Cannons probably,” Hermione said with a snort. “Honestly, that boy is obsessed with them.”

Remus smiled. “We all have to have our own obsessions. And apparently, your’s is currently…” he looked at the book she was reading, “ _Witch Weekly_?”

“It’s actually a Transfiguration book. Sirius’ transformed it for me so nobody would know what I was reading about.”

“And _Witch Weekly_ won’t arise suspicion?”

“Well, less suspicion than books about becoming an animagus,” Hermione said bluntly, sipping her tea.

“Oh, yes, that it would be.” Remus paused, “I just came in here to grab some papers from Sirius’ desk and get back to our meeting with Dumbledore.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

Remus gathered the papers and was just about to leave when he turned. “Did you say animagus?”

Hermione chuckled. “Yes, dear. Going to see if I’m the big bad wolf or just a kitten.” She hadn’t realized the words were out of her mouth until she saw Remus’ shocked expression and a flush rise into his cheeks. Apparently, she had gotten sassy.

“Right then, enjoy your reading Hermione,” Remus nodded at her before leaving her to a chapter on visualization.

***

She couldn’t sleep. Her mind would not quiet, racing with thoughts of Voldemort’s return, Harry’s future fight, her role in it, and the risk involved. It didn’t help that it was an abnormally hot night in Islington and even in skimpy shorts and a tank top she felt as if the air was choking her, slowly draining the life and will out of her body. Perhaps it wasn’t that extreme, but after Ginny groaned at her, “Hermione, you’ve been tossing and turning for the past two hours. Either go to bloody sleep or get out of the room,” Hermione decided it was just that bad.

She slipped out of their room with a book from her nightstand tucked under her arm, closing the door quietly. She thought about going to the library but the room was filled with heavy fabrics and rugs and the thought of all surrounding the steaming air was enough to make her pass that door and head straight down to the basement kitchen. As Hermione filled a glass of water, gulping it greedily, it was then she noticed Sirius, asleep at the large table.

Not wanting to disturb him, she hopped up on the counter to sit while she waited to cool down. Hermione took the opportunity to observe him. His Azkaban tattoo and what looked to be a fresh one stood out against the pale skin on his arm. She could just make out what looked to be a deer, a stag, a wolf, and a dog all looking up at a bright moon. His short hair was clean and damp, although from sweat or from recently showering Hermione didn’t know. She sat there for some time, just watching him, lost in her own thoughts of how she too had lost people precious to her. Perhaps they had more in common than she thought.

As if he could tell he was being watched, Sirius jerked awake, looking around with wide eyes before settling on Hermione. “Hermione,” he coughed, “everything all right?”

“Other than it’s hotter than Merlin’s balls in our room? Yes, everything’s fine.”

Sirius snorted, “Don’t let Molly hear you talking like that.”

“Oh no, I can be the perfect genteel witch when I need to be. Just not when it’s this bleeding hot,” Hermione huffed.

“And yet, you’ve got goosebumps.” He pointed out. “Guess my cooling charms worked?”

Hermione looked down at her arms at the small gooseflesh that had appeared. “Yes, I guess they did. Thank you.”

“Didn’t do it for you, love.”

Hermione ignored the endearment and the tease. “When did you get that one?”

Sirius looked down at the tattoo with a faint smile. “Last week. Snuck out as Padfoot, went to a Muggle tattoo parlour.”

“I didn’t know Lily was an Animagus too.”

“She wasn’t,” Sirius traced the doe with a finger, “It was her Patronus. And she became as much a part of the Marauders as Remus, James, and I were. We were such a force to be reckoned with sometimes. Lily with her spirit, Remus with his logic, James…” He paused. “They were everything.”

“Tell me about them,” Hermione said gently, placing a hand on his arm. And so he did.

***

Hermione thought back to that night - she had really enjoyed chatting with Sirius. He was an engaging wizard, and she was pleasantly surprised to find more than the drama queen he sometimes appeared to be. In truth, his mind was quick, and as the night wore on, the stories he shared not only were illuminating about Harry’s parents but also showed her a side of him that she found unusually compelling. Not only that, but he seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts and stories, and rather than shying away from her when he didn’t know something, he summoned a book and helped her get an answer that had eluded her earlier that day. They had quickly settled into a routine sitting together at night, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in the library, swapping stories. Hermione found herself laughing more than she had in months, but she also found herself yawning more too.

“Harry comes today!” Sirius chirped at Hermione as he bounded into the library. “I’ll get to see my godson!”

Hermione smiled at her friend. “Excited much?”

“If I can’t get out of this godforsaken house at least I’ll have him to help keep me company.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Dogs _like_ chopped liver, kitten.” Sirius walked over to the couch, squatting down beside her. “I’m sorry. It’s just I promised James I would teach him everything.”

“I understand,” Hermione yawned.

“Someone been keeping you up, Miss Granger?”

“Some dog has been yapping in my ear every night,” she teased with another yawn.

Sirius pulled a thick forest green quilt over her and took the book from her, closing it with a bookmark. “Sleep, kitten. I’ll wake you up when Harry gets in.”

“Thanks, Sirius.”

It turned out she didn’t need Sirius to wake her up - she woke up to a slamming door and Harry screaming at Ron. Sirius’ mother started just a few seconds later. Hermione groaned, stretching. This reunion was not going to go as planned.

“And where were you? Why didn’t you write?” Harry leveled at her when she entered his and Ron’s room.

“I did! You weren’t responding and Sirius said to give you a break. Said you wouldn’t like being pushed.”

“Oh, and now you’re talking to Sirius about me!”

“Harry, calm down, we’re just concerned about you… after Cedric and Voldemort coming back, you shut down. I asked Sirius for advice on how to get you to open up.” Hermione tried.

“You had no right!”

“I had every right when one of my best friends is struggling and I don’t know how to help him!”

“You could have helped me by telling me what is going on in the Wizarding World. Tell me what Voldemort is up to!”

“And you think that’s the best thing to put in a letter that could be intercepted?”

“Hermione, we could have given him some of what we knew,” Ron interjected.

“Professor Dumbledore asked us not to!” she snapped, quickly losing her patience.

“Oh, well, if Dumbledore asked you to, then we can forget that I saved you from a troll in our first year.”

“Harry, mate, that’s a bit…” 

“NO!” Harry exploded. “This is my fight and nobody seems to want me to prepare for the fight!”

“Well, if you’re going to be like this, I don’t see the point in continuing this conversation! Some of us have given up _everything_ to help you, to protect you, and you can’t seem to wrap your head around that and to be grateful. No, instead you lash out like a petulant child!” Hermione threw up her arms and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be in the parlor if you come to your senses.” She slammed the door behind her, almost stomping down the stairs in frustration. A hand wrapped around her upper arm stopping her progress.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Sirius gently released her arm. He could practically see the magic crackling and fizzing in her rambunctious hair. She reminded him of Lily - her hair would stand on end when her magic acted out during periods of strong emotions.

“Your godson is a complete and utter arse.” Hermione realized who she was speaking to and stopped short. “I’m sorry, Sirius. He’s lashing out just like you predicted.”

 Sirius sighed. “I didn’t want this to be an ‘I told you so’ moment.”

“I know.” She deflated. “I just wish I could smack some reason into him.”

“The number of times Lily wanted to do that to James...well, let’s just say her hand would have been permanently red from all that slapping.” He chuckled at the memory. “Give him some time, love. He’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will. But, if he doesn’t, maybe Padfoot needs to sit on him.” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that.

 ***

They were sitting in the library that night, not talking but each enjoying a book and the other’s presence when Hermione slammed her book shut and jumped up. Sirius looked up surprised. “What?”

 “I’m sick of this house.”

 “Yes, and?”

“Short of some repainting charms which I want to try out but probably shouldn’t do at 3 am, I only see one solution.”

“Which is?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s go for a walk. You and me - along the river. I’m not a prisoner and neither should you be!”

“Just a girl and her dog then?” Sirius asked hopefully as he put his own book aside and stood up.

“No,” Hermione smirked, “a girl and her friend. Dumbledore can go fuck himself.” She summoned a sweater to ward against the early morning chill.

Sirius clucked his tongue, “There you go again with that language.”

“Like you’re going to tell anyone,” she scoffed.

“Who knows, I may tell Kreacher. Make him hate you even more.”

“One of these days you’re going to treat him like he’s more than just a slave.”

“And he’ll die of shock,” Sirius stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s a walk at 3 am along the water. What non-Muggle, or Muggle for that matter, is going to be out and about and recognize you?”

“I meant that you want to go for a walk instead of...I don’t know, sleep?”

“Gives me an excuse to get out of the cleaning tomorrow.”

With a shrug, Sirius opened the door and they left into the night. There was a breeze and the trees rustled by it were one of the only noises on Grimmauld Place. Nobody - wizard, muggle, dog, cat - was out, though that didn’t surprise Hermione, this was a quiet neighborhood, to begin with. “I can see why your parents chose this neighborhood - it’s very quiet. Nobody would question their comings and goings.”

“Actually, the family legend is that one of my ancestors - Cygnus - liked his scotch a little too much. This area used to have a lot of pubs and he didn’t want to be far from them. He convinced a Muggle family to ‘gift’ it to him - my guess is Imperius or something similar - and the house has been in my family ever since.”

“How long did it take you to find all the secret passageways to escape without being noticed?”

Sirius scrunched up his face in thought, “I think I was seven? There’s really only two. The former servant’s back staircase and the very rusty, practically falling apart fire escape from the attic. Dear old Mum blocked that one off after Regulus followed me out onto it when he was… oh, I think he was eight at the time… and he fell and broke his collarbone.” They turned a corner before meeting the river path. “What about your childhood? You don’t seem to talk about it a lot.”

“I could say the same of you,” Hermione deflected.

“Well yes,” Sirius said, running a hand over his face. “But I had a miserable childhood by all accounts, wouldn’t you say? Never really knew life could be better until I met James and Remus and…” Peter Pettigrew’s name hung unsaid in the air. “Harry said your parents are dentists?”

Sirius noted the way Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath like she was steeling herself for an answer she didn’t want to give. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he offered. “What do you want to talk about instead?”

Hermione was grateful Sirius hadn’t pushed her. That was a secret nobody knew - not even Harry or Ron. When she had asked to stay with the Weasley’s that summer she was happy when Mrs. Weasley had let it go after her explanation that her parents had won a round-the-world cruise and wouldn’t be back until she returned to Hogwarts. She knew she should tell someone but it didn’t feel right yet. It felt too new. So instead she asked a question about the visualization step to finding her animagus form and as Sirius began his explanation she found herself relaxing. She was safe. They were safe. It would be okay.

“Hermione, we’re going to getting close to Kings Cross soon. We should probably head back.”

“Yeah,” she yawned. “Probably. I should probably get some sleep too.”

“Have you been actually going to sleep for a few hours before coming to the library?”

“Have you?” Hermione challenged.

“No, but I’m also not fifteen.”

“Sixteen - my use of the time turner meant in one year I aged two years. Technically, I’ll be of age this September.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, 16. But you should be getting more than what...four hours of sleep a night?”

She shrugged. “It will be good practice for when we go back to Hogwarts and have to start studying for our OWLs.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the reason. I’m pretty sure you could ace them in your sleep.”

It’s true, it wasn’t the reason. She had been having terrible nightmares coupled with nighttime anxiety over what had happened at the beginning of the summer. They hadn’t started immediately - they seemed to have really taken off after Mrs. Weasley’s mandated cleaning and purges of the house. But they were enough that sleep was only really restful if she was exhausted. Instead of laying awake or tossing and turning, she had found a solution in Sirius. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But even if it’s not the real reason, it’s a good enough excuse.”

Taking her completely by surprise, Sirius stopped and wrapped her up in a hug. Holding her at arm’s length he looked at her. “I don’t know what’s going on, and you don’t have to tell me, but I consider us friends, and so I just want you to know, we can continue our library chats for as long as you’re here. But maybe not tomorrow,” Sirius said releasing her and slipping an arm through her’s. “Cause you look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Thanks, Sirius. Harry’s lucky to have you, you know?”

“Harry’s got nothing to do with this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to my beta Sharla and my artist Jessi for their amazing, wonderful help on this!

“Hermione, can we talk?” Harry asked her after breakfast the next morning, pointing at himself and Ron. 

“Doesn’t Mrs. Weasley have some sort of cleaning assignment for us?” She was tired - Sirius’ and her walk had lasted until nearly five in the morning and breakfast was always served at eight. She was existing on barely three hours of sleep and it showed. 

“Not yet. We’re going to be repainting at some point Sirius said, but he’s still researching the right charm I guess,” Ron said, hands pushed in his pockets. 

“Right then - your room I guess?”

They climbed the stairs in silence. She caught the way Ron and Harry exchanged uneasy glances as if they were nervous she was going to hex them or something worse. She huffed. “I’m not going to curse you two into next week. For one thing, Harry’s got his Ministry Hearing this week and I’m pretty sure being cursed is not a reason to fail to appear.”

They relaxed only marginally after that. She shut the door behind her and leaned up against it. “So?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking up at her, a chagrined expression on his face. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Hermione.”

Hermione almost wanted to laugh. Of course, it could have easily been from exhaustion. But she got the feeling that this apology was only to get a story out of Hermione. She had snapped and said some things that demanded an explanation. No, she was being ridiculous. It was just one of her best friends apologizing for an outburst. ...Except Harry ran hot. He didn’t apologize easily. He had to want something - in this case, the story behind what she said. For appearance’s sake and for their friendship she had to accept the fake olive branch. 

“It’s okay, Harry. We’re all under a lot of stress right now.” She stood up and turned to leave, knowing full well it wasn’t over. 

“What’s going on with you and Sirius?” Ron blurted out. 

She turned back to her friends. “Excuse me?”

“Ginny says you aren’t sleeping. That you leave your room and go to the library and talk with Sirius all night.” Ron looked frustrated more than anything else. And while Hermione understood with all the secrets swirling around them, it was also annoying. Why couldn’t he just trust her?

_ Thanks, Ginny _ , Hermione thought with a scowl. “We’re talking about advanced transfiguration.” Not a lie. 

“At two in the morning?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you jealous, Ron?”

“Wait, Hermione,” Harry interrupted. “You said you had sacrificed everything?”

“I was being hyperbolic. I’m exhausted. I mean, I have helped Sirius and Dumbledore when I could have been with my parents. But that’s not everything. That was my choice, after all.” She closed her eyes for a moment, praying that they would believe her and  _ just drop it _ . When she opened them she saw Harry nodding. 

“Get some sleep, Hermione.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” 

***

It wasn’t exactly back to normal after that, but Hermione did try. She spent a few more hours pretending to sleep (and sometimes actually sleeping) and a few fewer hours talking to Sirius. She suspected she missed the company more than he did, as he didn’t make any indication that anything had changed. And just when she was about to tear her hair out in frustration - frustration that he wasn’t pushing, that he was just being  _ nice _ , that he didn’t seem to need her company the way she had realized she needed his - when he pulled her aside after dinner. 

“You’ll be going back to Hogwarts the day after tomorrow. Let’s see how far you’ve gotten on your visualization?”

“Library at our usual time?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Sirius chuckled. “Sure.” 

A few hours later, they sat cross-legged on the floor facing one another. Hermione had her eyes closed tightly, her face scrunched up in concentration. 

“What do you see?” Sirius asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought.

“A tree. I’m up in a tree. In a...park maybe?” She tilted her head slightly as if hearing with her new ears for the first time. “I can hear well and see color. Although...I can’t tell what color the leaves or the grass is.”

“Can you look at your hands?”

“Claws. I have claws on my paws.”

“Claws on your paws you say?” Sirius teased. 

Hermione, keeping her eyes closed, swatted at him. “I’m a...squirrel?” Her eyes flew open. “I’m a squirrel.”

“Disappointed?”

“I just thought I would be a dog, like you,” Hermione admitted, looking down, a blush inflaming her face. 

Sirius tipped her face towards him with a finger. “Not everyone can be a dog, love. And anyway, it fits. You’ve got thick hair, squirrels have bushy tails. You protect your own, you’re a hard worker, and you can be chatty.” He smiled brilliantly at her. “Plus, you can run up a tree faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Too bad you aren’t a moose. Then we could be ‘Moose and Squirrel,’” Hermione said with her best imitation of a Russian accent. 

“Alright, Rocky.”

Hermione grinned. “You’ve seen it?”

“Lily loved it. She would watch reruns when nursing Harry.”

An idea came to Hermione and she grinned at Sirius, “And hey, I can taunt you all I want by throwing nuts at your head.”

“Hey, leave mine and every other guy’s nuts alone!” Hermione dissolved into giggles. She fell forward into Sirius’ shoulder, vibrating with laughter. Sirius wrapped his arms around her, his bark-like laugh filling the room. 

After they recovered, Hermione sat up and asked, “So, what’s the next step? The mandrake leaf?”

“My my, how eager we are! Yes, and then after that you’ll be ready to start trying to transform. But remember what I said…”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, yes, I know, be careful, let someone know I’m trying to transform so that if something goes wrong they can get to me and help me.”

“Thanks, love. I’ve got so few friends, gotta keep the ones I do have safe, right?” Sirius asked baldly. 

_ Yeah, something like that _ , Hermione thought. 

Saying goodbye the next day was hard for Hermione. She felt like she was leaving somewhere safe - a refuge from the world. It was ironic that she had come to view Grimmauld Place as a refuge when the whole house, and Mrs. Black’s portrait, in particular, seemed to scream that she shouldn’t exist, that this was somewhere she didn’t belong. She stood in the library, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the books. Crookshanks, who normally hated his carrier, was quiet as if to allow her this moment. 

“I wouldn’t breathe too deeply. You never know what’s on those books,” Sirius teased, coming up behind her. Hermione could have been imagining it, but it seemed like he was fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her. 

“Hope, trust, and pixie dust?” Hermione quoted  _ Peter Pan _ . She turned around to him and enveloped him in a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, duck.” Hermione smiled at the endearment. “But I’m always just a letter away. And I imagine you’ll be here for at least some of the Christmas holidays.”

Hermione nodded, dropping her arms and looking up at the man who had so quickly become her closest friend, despite the age difference. “And Hogsmeade, if I manage to get through the Mandrake leaf stage before then.”

“And then.” One last hug and then they were off to the train station for her fifth year.

***

_ Dear Snuffles, _

__ I don’t expect Harry to write you, so I guess it falls on me. The new Defense professor is a Ministry official and she seems to have implied that the Ministry is watching over Hogwarts and not in a parental, off-handed sort of way. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, to be honest. You have an idea of Harry’s temper and the Ministry poof has already given him a detention. He’s going to have to be a lot smarter. 

She is such an idiot, Snuffles. Or, at least, she appears to be an idiot. She “hem-hems” and wears all pink and I swear I have never seen more cat plates in my life. You know I like cats with Crookshanks, but she has an almost sadistic love of felines. I wish we had Professor Lupin again. At least then we would be learning something for our OWLs. I can learn a lot from books, but Defense is not one of them. I need practice.

I was able to get a few leaves from sneaking into the greenhouses. It’s surprising how easy it is with Harry’s invisibility cloak and at 3 a.m. I’ll start soon. I know I have to be careful so that Umbridge - or more importantly, Professor McGonagall - doesn’t catch on. But I don’t have to worry about accidentally swallowing it in my sleep. The workload for our classes has increased exponentially and so I’m up most nights just like this summer. I wish I had Snuffles to keep me company.

_ Hermione _

 

_ Dear Hermione _ , 

I  have started redecorating. It took me awhile to get those spells down – they're definitely more difficult than the standard Lumos. I almost ended up painting the wood floors pink instead of the walls a cheery color. I was thinking of a chocolate brown – or an orange. No, orange is a color that Prongs would have chosen. He always had a thing for orange – as it's apparent that Harry might just have a thing for orange as well. Oh, he doesn't know it yet. But I've met his parents. and it's definitely got to be a family thing.

Anyway, so the walls are chocolate brown and I was thinking of changing the color of my bedding too. Although, I'm not sure I should be spending so much time fixing up the bedroom when I spend so little time in it. Although, I have been sleeping more. I was so tired the other night that I went to sleep at 8 and woke up at 5. Such a weird experience.

You would have loved Prongs and Lily, Hermione. They were so caring and so patient with me. But I think you would have found a...what did Lily call it? A kindred spirit I think, in Lily. You and she are almost identical, from what I've seen. You would have loved her. As for the books and learning from them, Remus always was the most bookish of us four. Although there were times Lily definitely came a close second. I imagine he was a great, and practical teacher. At least at Defense. The poor man was pants at Potions. He blamed it on his sensitive nose. I just say he’s bad at it. 

I’ll write to Harry about being careful along with some letters and pictures from his parents. You have enough on your plate to worry about without worrying about him shouting something about Voldemort and getting expelled. Even if James and Lily would be so proud of him for doing so - sticking up for what’s right - it’s best he stays at Hogwarts. And while we’re on the subject of worrying, can I add that you should definitely, probably, be getting a lot more sleep than you are. You never have to that people are going to think less of you because you are tired and ready to admit it. Nobody can handle everything that life throws at them without help. At some point, you’ll snap and it won’t be pretty. 

Let me know how the Mandrake leaf progress is going. If you start soon enough you’ll be done by or before Halloween and we can meet for the next stage. 

Sleep little love,

_ Sirius _

Hermione did sleep, but only after she practiced a lie that convinced Madam Pomfrey that she was having nightmares about OWLs and needed something to get a good night’s sleep. It was, at least, partially true. The healer had tutted and patted the girl on the shoulder, muttering something about how the professors were going to drive everyone insane. That night of sleep had been restful but also concerning. She couldn’t take Dreamless Sleep every night - it was addictive and she would need more and more after her body adjusted to it. She needed to tell someone. She wrote several copies of the letter before the final one she sent to Sirius. 

_ Dear Snuffles, _

We’ve been so honest with each other up to this point that I feel like I need to tell you this. That to hold it back is to lie. It’s been so easy to lie to everyone - to Harry, to Ron, to Mrs. Weasley, to anyone really. But as our friendship has grown, it has become increasingly impossible for me to lie to you. It’s not just studying for classes, the increasing workload, and the stress of the war that is making me an insomniac. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

You know I’m a Muggleborn. You know what Voldemort does to people like me, to people like my parents. It’s not safe. Perhaps it never was. Maybe it never will be. But regardless, whatever decisions genocidal noseless maniacs make in the future, I know it will put my parents at risk. So I let them go. They don’t call me the most brilliant witch of my age for nothing. After Harry came out of that maze I made a decision and I started researching. Compulsion charms, the False Memory charm, even Muggle immigration laws. And when I arrived home, I put my plan into action. 

Dr. Roger and Jean Granger don’t exist anymore. The people they used to be are Wendell and Monica Wilkins now. They live, I imagine, in a beautiful house on the coast outside of Brisbane, Australia. They’re still dentists. That’s too strong a memory and skill set for me to erase. They’re safe. They’re safe and I’m… I don’t know what I am. Am I an orphan? I have no home to go to - my childhood house has been sold. I’ve got a few mementos and photographs I couldn’t bear to destroy, but everything else is gone. My… My childhood is gone, Sirius.

And I know I did it for the right reasons. And I know I would do it again to make sure that Harry succeeds. To make sure the bastard never has a chance to strike any Muggle or Muggleborn person down. But it still hurts, so much.

I’ve got a mountain of a Potions essay for Professor Snape that I should probably get on instead of blathering to you about solutions that weren’t the answer I wanted. I miss you, my friend. 

_ Hermione _

 

_ Dear Hermione,  _

__ I’m sorry that you have had to suffer through this alone for months. You shouldn’t have had to. I am glad that you were able to tell someone. And selfishly, I’m glad it was me. You aren’t just dealing with the loss of your parents temporarily to keep them safe, I am guessing. Memory charms are notoriously fickle and dangerous. You would know that. You know it’s unlikely that you would ever be able to return their proper memories. I’m so sorry that you had to make that decision to become an orphan. I would give you a huge hug if you were here.

But hugs aside, I am beginning to think that you think of everyone else before yourself. And it’s making it even harder for you to grieve. It’s gotten bad, don’t lie. Harry has noticed and in what few letters we have exchanged, he’s mentioned how worried he is about you. And if Harry is anything like James, he’s pretty unobservant at times. 

You don’t have to be strong all the time, Hermione. You don’t have to try to fix everyone and everything. Sometimes it just doesn’t work - sometimes it  _ can’t _ work because not everything can be fixed. And you know that. You can’t magically get rid of Voldemort with research, as much as you may wish. Hell, as much as I may wish. If it had been that simple Lily would have defeated him easily. 

Take a break, Hermione. Throw yourself into your form meditations. Drink some (decaf) tea. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you do. I’ve decided to come up for the first Hogsmeade visit to check in on Harry if you want to talk in a space that’s a little safer than these letters. 

_ Snuffles _

***

“Looks like you’ve finally settled into the term,” Ginny said to Hermione as they walked during a free period. “Harry was worried about you, you know.”

“So he’s finally gotten over his crush on Cho and started talking to you again?” Hermione deflected.

Ginny blushed a rosy pink. “He’s not interested in me right now, no. But he was worried about you - we all were. It’s obvious you weren’t sleeping. There’s only so much concealer can hide.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “When did I become the subject of everyone’s conversation?” Even if she had been sleeping more, her temper was still short. 

Ginny smirked, tickling the pear in the fruit bowl painting. “One-third of the Golden Trio? Duck, you’re always going to be a ‘subject of everyone’s conversation.’” 

They entered the kitchen and sat at a large wooden table. One whole wall was filled with stoves and ovens, working away on whatever stew or pies they were to have that night. There was an open doorway presumably to a pantry that elves kept coming in and out of with various fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Several elves swooped over to their feet, looking up at the two girls with big, tennis ball eyes. It was a familiar elf - Dobby - that spoke first. “Hermione Granger,” Dobby squeaked, “what can Dobby do for you?”

“Do you happen to have any chamomile tea and scones?” Ginny asked. The elves immediately went scurrying off and returned with two teacups on dainty saucers, as well as a plate piled high with scones. 

Hermione had had the Mandrake leaf in her mouth for a few weeks now, and while she had gotten used to eating around it, she would be happy when she was able to take it out. She had damn near swallowed the thing several times already. But she knew if she didn’t keep with the original timeline, she might not be able to see Sirius come the first Hogsmeade weekend. She took a scone and spread some of the jam and clotted cream on it. She was about to take a bite when Ginny persisted. “So what was going on?”

“Sirius messed up my sleeping schedule. Well, that and there’s so much work to do to prepare for OWLs.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione was used to it - people saying she was too focused on her schoolwork. That she should live a little. But how many times had her research saved them? It had saved Ginny, certainly. It used to bother her that that was what she was defined by - her bookish nature. But with her friends - Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and now Luna, - beside her the taunts hurt a lot less. 

“You’ve got plenty of time, Hermione.” 

“I know  _ I  _ do, but your brother would much rather do anything other than study.” 

“True. And Umbridge isn’t much help either.” And with that comment, all thoughts of Hermione’s sleep patterns and her growing friendship with Sirius was forgotten.

***

_ Dear Snuffles - _

__ Umbridge’s interference has started so I’m not sure how many letters we’ll be able to send to each other before someone starts intercepting them. But I wanted to make sure you’re coming to Hogsmeade next weekend. I’ll have had the Mandrake leaf in for a month by then so we can work on the next step together. 

And so you don’t worry, I’ll have you know, I have started sleeping again, although I need more Dreamless Sleep potion than I’d care to admit. Stay safe, Snuffles. 

_ Hermione _

 

_ Dear Rocky -  _

Glad to hear you’re finally sleeping again. Dreamless Sleep can be addicting, yes, but eventually, it’ll get to the point where you’ll be able to sleep again without it. It took me over a year after escaping before I could sleep through a night. As evidenced by our nightly conversations, I still have trouble. But you help, Hermione. These letters help. 

I’ll be at that place you brought me the chicken last year. Come an hour or so before the time you tell Harry. Stay safe yourself, Rocky.

_ Snuffles _

“Right, so we’ll meet at the cave at one?” Hermione went over the plan again with Harry and Ron after the previous week had flown by and they found themselves in the Entrance Hall to go down to Hogsmeade. Several of the younger students milled about in the hall, trying to get an older housemate to bring them back something from one of the shops. A few of the older ones stood alone, looking up every few minutes as if waiting for someone - a date perhaps. 

“Yes, Hermione. We know you want to go and see if the new bookshop is open. And yes, I will buy you some Sugar Quills,” Ron teased with a friendly poke to her side from his elbow. 

There wasn’t actually a bookstore opening in Hogsmeade, although Hermione imagined if there was, it would easily be a good way to spend not only an entire Saturday but her term allowance of Galleons as well. No, that was simply her excuse to escape from the boys after the meeting in the Hog’s Head and meet with Sirius. The excitement over possibly transforming into her squirrel form and also seeing Sirius had her nearly bouncing on her seat in the pub. The meeting went about as she had expected it to - some doubt and disbelief, others in total agreement. But all thoughts of Harry teaching Defense slipped her mind as soon as she reached the cave. 

“Am I supposed to knock?” she called into the cave, amused. She was greeted with a woof and massive front paws launching themselves onto her shoulder. “I’ll take that as a no. Hi, Snuffles.” She scratched behind his ears before letting him drop down to all fours and lead her back into the cave. 

“Rocky,” Sirius greeted with a grin and a hug before plopping down into one of the chairs he had transfigured. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Guess that’s my new name, huh?”

“Well, it would be a little weird for me to call you duck, now, wouldn’t it?” Oh, she had missed him! She hadn’t realized how hard conversations had been until they slipped into an easy banter about the Mandrake leaf process, transfiguration, and Harry. It was obvious to anyone who might have overheard them that Sirius truly cared for his godson and wanted the best for him. Such things were difficult in a time of war, but that made it all the more admirable. 

After a while, Sirius glanced out of the cave to judge where the sun was. “We should probably get working on your transformation if you want to get something done before Harry and Ron show up. Can’t have you sporting a tail when they come in!”

Hermione’s face flushed crimson as she muttered, “It wouldn’t be the first time they saw me with a tail.” She moved from the chair to sit cross-legged on the floor of the cave. Being too comfortable, too  _ human _ , she had realized was one surefire way to make her transformation backfire.

Sirius barked a laugh. “Now that’s a story I want to hear someday!” Seeing her still red face Sirius shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rocky. I’m sure it was very traumatic,” he soothed. “Now, close your eyes and visualize yourself as that squirrel. And when you’re ready, imagine your body morphing into that squirrel.”

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing. Sirius watched her appraisingly as her hands flashed into paws and back, her ears becoming small and pointy before returning. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and looked down with a huff. “It didn’t work.”

Sirius wanted to chuckle if not for the fact she seemed so frustrated and might have been insulted by his laugh. Of course, she would think it would be easy and she would get it like a snap of the fingers! This was the girl...woman who had never had trouble with anything academic. She could master just about anything without much thought. “It did work,” he reassured her. “Your hands changed and your ears changed. You just weren’t able to sustain it. I was going to be shocked if you were able to master it on your first go.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Near on a month, I think before I could transform between Padfoot and myself easily. James did it quicker and...well…” he trailed off. 

“Pettigrew was slower?” Hermione supplied. 

“Yeah, he was much better at Charms than he was at Transfiguration. And he had the patience of a gnat.”

“I didn’t know gnats had patience,” Hermione teased. “Especially considering their attention span is so short.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Sirius nearly whined. “You’ve probably got time for one more try before they arrive.”

Hermione closed her eyes once more. “You’re a squirrel. Think of the sounds you make. Think of how your claws scrape across the ground. Think of how your bushy tail feels. Think of being small, compact, lithe,” Sirius prompted her gently. This time her whole form flickered as she concentrated even harder. It would take some more time, but Sirius guessed she was going to be the quickest of the four of them - and if she stayed at it, might be able to master transforming in half the time it took Sirius. His canine hearing perked at the sound of footfalls on the rocks below. “Think now of being Hermione. You’re Hermione, not Rocky,” he told her calmly. 

When Hermione was fully present in front of him again, he gently put his hand on her shoulder, “Open your eyes, love. You did a great job, but Harry and Ron are on their way up.”

Hermione beamed at him. “Really?”

“Yes, Rocky. Just keep practicing. And maybe do some research on squirrels in the meantime - it will help with the visualization.”

“Why would Hermione need to do research on squirrels?” Ron asked, popping up at the entrance to the cave. 

“Sirius is helping me create a spell like the attacking birds spell, but instead of birds, it’s seeds and nuts pelting the person,” Hermione lied smoothly. She was getting entirely too good at that, she thought sadly. It shouldn’t be that easy to lie to her best friends. 

Ron shuddered, shaking his head, “Sometimes you’re scary, Hermione, you know that?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Please leave any and all comments, suggestions, kudos, or just plain love as you see fit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces my favorite OC I've ever written - Alexia Jugson. My face claim for her is Summer Glau.

Chapter 3

“Argh!” Hermione grunted, slamming her palms on the grassy floor in front of her in frustration. It was a few days before the Christmas break and she still hadn’t been able to master transforming into her squirrel. She had wanted to perfect it before they traveled back to Grimmauld Place for the holidays so she could surprise Sirius. She had gotten much further than when they had last seen each other in October, but it wasn’t perfect. She had been able to transform into her squirrel - every feature of her human form erased into a tiny, red rodent with a beautiful, bushy tail. But it was as if she lost her concentration a few minutes after and immediately shifted back. 

The Room of Requirements had done her best, creating a park with plenty of trees for Hermione. There was a park bench and some flowers; there was even a trash can, much to Hermione’s amusement. But the majority of the room was taken up by oak tree, ripe with acorns for her little squirrel hands, should she ever be able to fully transform. It helped some, but not as much as she would have liked. The Room sensed her frustration and a cup of tea appeared in front of her. Despite herself, Hermione chuckled. 

“You’re certainly a British room, aren’t you?” She took the tea and wrapped her hands around the cup, enjoying its warmth. It did help calm her, but it didn’t provide answers. For that she needed Sirius. With Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad searching nearly all incoming and outgoing mail, she hadn’t felt comfortable sending a note of question to Sirius. She didn’t want him to get caught, nor did she particularly want to end up in detention with Professor Umbridge - not after the Blood Quills she had inflicted on many other students, including Harry. She glanced at the book in front of her with a sigh. She had snuck it out of Professor McGonagall’s office one night hoping it would provide her with some answers about why she was unable to maintain her form. 

Apparently, this was a common occurrence for those of high intelligence, the book had noted. Those people were unable to compartmentalize their human brain and when it came time to have an animal brain, it couldn’t handle the stress. It suggested meditation before shifting, and after some time, the brain would naturally be able to compartmentalize for successful transformations. Hermione had been trying that. And while she had succeeded within the last few weeks to the point where Rocky would exist for five, maybe ten minutes, her human brain with very human concerns would take over. 

With a huff, Hermione stood up and stretched. She guessed that would have to be good enough for now. Maybe Sirius would be able to help her come Christmastime and they could escape Grimmauld Place again, but this time as Padfoot and Rocky. She placed the book and the tea back on the shelf the room had provided her by the door and applied the Disillusionment Charm before going back to the dorms. Hermione ended up getting her opportunity to talk with Sirius about it sooner than she had expected, as that night Mr. Weasley was attacked and they all were whisked to St. Mungo’s and then Grimmauld for safety. 

***  
She found him the night after they had arrived in the library, gazing absentmindedly towards a window that looked out onto the courtyard. Hermione flopped down on the couch next to him, knocking him out of his stupor. “What’s going on in that canine brain of yours?”

“Hey there, Rocky,” Sirius smiled. “How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m not the one that was staring at nothing, so...let’s get your answer to that question.” 

“Honest?”

Hermione nodded at him, “Always. We have been so far.”

“Moony ate all my damn chocolate and Mrs. Weasley keeps making turkey and Padfoot hates turkey.”

“Okay, I can believe Professor Lupin ate all your chocolate, and Mrs. Weasley has made turkey the past two nights, but I’ve seen you eat turkey before. So you want to know what I think?” 

Sirius huffed. “What?”

“You’re sick of this house. You’re sick of being stuck inside a building that holds a lot of bad memories and it’s a constant reminder of that childhood you so like to bring up, especially with your mother screaming at everyone constantly.” Hermione peeked a glance at Sirius’ face above her to check if she was hitting the mark. From his frown, she could tell she was getting pretty close. “You might also be a bit annoyed that you aren’t doing more for the Order than offering the house - the house that you hate - for Order meetings.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“So, let me start by saying that you’re not useless to me. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but you aren’t.”

Sirius slipped an arm around her, pulling her head towards him. “It means something.”

“And hey, I think I’m pretty close to getting Rocky down. Maybe in a few days we can get out for a run in the park?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Sirius said quietly, wrapping an arm around her. “Thanks, Rocky.” He smiled down at Hermione, “You ready to show me what you’ve got?”

Hermione wanted to snuggle with him and fall asleep - she was certainly tired enough. But she was also aware of their age difference and the fact maybe it wasn’t a good idea to get too involved too quickly. Plus, she really did want to work on her animagus form. “Sure, let’s do this.”  
***  
She was standing in Mr. Weasley’s hospital room as nearly the whole Weasley family hugged, joked, and exchanged presents. And she felt claustrophobic. It felt like the room was closing in on her, reminding her of everything she had lost. “I’m...I’m going to get some tea,” Hermione said weakly, going out of the room and sliding down the wall beside it. She could feel bile rising up in her throat and when she swallowed it down, all Hermione could do was start to hyperventilate.

“You look worse than some of the patients here,” an aristocratic voice commented near Hermione’s side. Hermione’s breath evened out as she looked up at the person speaking. “Hell, you look worse than me.” It was a young woman, about her age, tall, with a full face of makeup. But that couldn’t hide the fact she was bald or extremely pale. “So what’s your problem?”

“Excuse me?” Hermione gaped up at her. 

“Normal, healthy people don’t have panic attacks in the hallway.”

“Normal healthy people do too have panic attacks in hallways,” Hermione retorted before she could think of anything else. “Who are you?”

“Alexandrina Jugson, though people call me Alexia,” She offered a hand to Hermione to help her up. 

Jugson, where had she heard that name before? 

“Yeah, my father’s that guy. Not that he cares I exist,” Alexia commented absentmindedly. The comment had Hermione remembering what had brought her out into the hallway in the first place. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the girl in front of her instead of the pain of missing her parents. “You’re doing it again.” Alexia snapped her fingers in front of Hermione’s face. “Get it together girl.”

Hermione focused once more. The girl may be blunt, but at least she was preventing her from having several panic attacks in the hallway. “Tea?” She pointed to the sign for the Visitor’s Tearoom a few floors up. 

“Promise you’re not going to have a meltdown again?” Alexia eyed her warily. 

“No promises,” Hermione shrugged. “But at least we’ll have England’s national elixir to comfort me?”

“I’m not English, even if my father is.” 

They stepped into the elevator together, Alexia dragging her IV pole with her. “Didn’t say you were English. If I had to guess, I’d say Eastern European. Doesn’t mean tea can’t solve your problems.”

“Romanian,” Alexia offered. “And I don’t think it’s going to solve leukemia.” She made a move to toss her hair when she stopped as if her being bald was a new thing. They reached the fifth floor and Hermione got two cups of tea, setting them down on the creamy yellow tablecloth in front of the two of them. They were quiet for some time, simply sipping on their tea, observing the room around them. The walls were painted the blue of a sunny day which made the circular yellow tablecloth-covered tables look even more like suns scattered around the room. The chair had initially looked stiff and unwelcoming, but they must have had cushioning charms on them, for they were actually quite comfortable.

“I didn’t know witches could get leukemia.”

Alexia shrugged. “That might still be true. I’m a Squib.” Another sip of tea, “You know, you never told me your name.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione offered a hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Hermione. So other than having panic attacks in the hallway, what are you doing here?”

“My best friend’s dad was bitten by a pretty big snake. It’s Christmas so his family, my other best friend and I came to visit him.” Hermione went to change the subject. "So, you're a Romanian squib with a Muggle disease," Hermione paused, realizing how insensitive that sounded. "I mean, no judgment. I'm a Muggleborn myself. But...just..."

"What am I doing at St. Mungo's?" Alexia smiled wryly. "The Romanian doctors have tried. There's something about my make-up - even though I'm a Squib, I still have magical cells in my body or some such new age shit as that." She rolled her eyes. "And my body instantly rejected the drugs they tried. I mean...my body wouldn't even absorb the chemo drugs. The IV wouldn't drain and it confused the life out of them. And while Romania has the best dragon veterinarians in the world, it really doesn't have any good magical medical facilities. So, I'm here. In a country my mother hates and refuses to step foot in."

"How old are you?"

"Turned seventeen a few months ago. This was my birthday present to myself. I was so..." Alexia struggled for a moment with what word she was looking for, "fucking exhausted. I was so, so sick of feeling like crap. And I hated that my mother wouldn't let me go seek treatment because I am the product of her worst memory."

Hermione lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

Alexia laughed ruefully. "No, you did. You just now feel embarrassed that you did and you are uncomfortable with the fact I am entirely too much of an open book for my own good."

Hermione nodded. This girl was good for pegging someone exactly. "So, is the treatment working?"

Running a hand over her bald head, Alexia sighed. "Well, I'm bald, I'm pale, I've got this stupid drip attached to me practically permanently, but, yes. They think it might be helping."

"Are you allowed to leave?"

"What, and go sightseeing? No, not really. Even if I did, I don't have the energy for much besides a roam around the halls once a day."

"I just happened to interrupt your regular exercise, I'm sorry," Hermione interrupted, honestly. But she had an idea. "Could you get discharged for a day? Even just a few hours. I am staying with a friend in London and he's got plenty of room."

Alexia looked at her with wide eyes, "You don't know anything about me. And I won't be a charity case."

"I know you're a fatherless-daughter who has cancer, can't do magic, and is entirely too honest for her own good. You're also the only person besides Sirius that has been able to talk me out of a panic attack. How right am I right now?"

"Okay, you're right, but that doesn't mean that you get to just kidnap me and force me to eat Christmas cookies and drink copious amounts of tea."

Hermione smiled. "No, I won't force you. But you seem like you could be a friend. A good friend who happens to be a girl. And I could use that."

***  
Although Hermione had shown him a glimpse of Rocky a few nights before, she had held back, wanting to surprise him. With a few books from the Grimmauld Library and practice in meditation, she was fairly confident she had her form down and could maintain it. Hermione had felt bad that when they had exchanged Christmas presents she hadn’t been able to give him the kind of present she had wanted. She thought Rocky might be a good addition. 

“Sirius and I will wash dishes, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione volunteered after the big Christmas dinner. 

“Oh, that’s okay Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to the pile of dishes in the sink cleaning themselves. “It’s Christmas. Nobody should have to do dishes.”

Sirius chuckled, sensing her eye roll and that her plan to get him alone was going to fail. He passed behind her, leaning down to whisper, “Our spot in the library in half an hour?”

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine despite herself as she nodded. Sirius had almost sounded...sexy? No, she was just tired and that’s why she had shivered at his voice. Or maybe it was in anticipation of showing him Rocky - that was it, right? Regardless of the reason, she made her way to the library a few minutes later nearly shaking with anticipation. 

“So what did you want to get me alone for?” Sirius asked, shutting the door behind him. “If there wasn’t an age difference, I would think you were trying to jump me.”

Hermione coughed, blushing furiously. “No, not that...this.” She closed her eyes in concentration and when she opened her eyes she could tell she was Rocky. Her little ears picked up Sirius’ sharp intake of breath. 

“Oh, wow, Rocky.” He smiled down at her, “You did it!” He put a hand down for her to climb up. He lifted her in front of him, stroking her head gently with his other hand. “And you are so beautiful.”

Hermione hopped down gracefully before transforming back. “I’ve got another Christmas present for you if you want.”

“Oh, Rocky, you don’t have to give me anything else.” 

She smiled softly at him, “Why don’t you see what this present is first?” She pulled the coat she had draped over the side of a chair. “Get your coat. We’re going to the park.”

Sirius grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

They walked to a park not too far from the house, chatting quietly about the other people in the house. “Let’s play,” Hermione said with a grin before Rocky appeared in her place. 

They ran around the park, Padfoot chasing Rocky, barking like crazy. It felt so good to get out of the house and run, and run, and just take part in their more animal instincts. They probably played for a good hour before they transformed back. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages, Rocky!” Sirius picked Hermione up, swinging her around. “Thank you!”

Hermione laughed breathlessly. “I should be thanking you! I didn’t know I could feel so alive!” She placed her feet on the ground, resting in Sirius’ arms. Gazing into his grey eyes, Hermione was overcome with such a surge of love and she found herself closing her eyes and putting her lips on Sirius. But just as soon as she relished the feeling of Sirius’ lips on hers, her eyes flew open and she pushed away.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so...so...so…” Hermione’s eyes welled up with tears and she found her breath quickening. Before she realized it, she was having a panic attack. “I...sorry...Sirius...don’t…” Tears were now free-flowing down her cheeks and she couldn’t get her emotions or her breathing under control. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to will herself to calm down. 

She felt arms around her, pulling her into the expanse of his chest. “Shh, Rocky, it’s okay. I know I’m gorgeous. No need to get worked up about it.”

And despite everything, Hermione found herself laughing. She pulled away, looking back up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. These happen often?”

She shrugged. “Before my parents, I never had one. Now...this is the second one I’ve had in four days.”

“The holidays are hard,” Sirius explained simply. “I miss James and Lily every day, but especially around the holidays. Lily loved Christmas, you know. She would beg the house elves to let her bake us cookies, even when she didn’t really like us.” He gave her a side hug, “Don’t be embarrassed, Rocky. It’s just a sign you’ve had someone to love.”  
***

Hermione had worried that it was going to be awkward between her and Sirius after she kissed him but it wasn’t. Sirius still came to the library every night and they still went out several times as Padfoot and Rocky, chasing each other until both were breathless and laughing. They did that New Year’s Eve as the fireworks ringing in the new year burst above their heads. But tonight, their last night before Hermione returned to Hogwarts, Sirius suggested they just sit together on the sofa by the fire. Snuggled beneath a blanket, Sirius had dozed off hours ago, so Hermione summoned a quill, ink, and parchment from his desk, and got to work. 

Dear Alexia,  
I know enough about cancer to not ask you if you’re feeling better. But I at least hope that you have regained some color in your cheeks. Ghost is not a good look on a young woman, or so I am told. (Though it does annoy me that anyone has anything to say about women’s appearances other than “You look nice/beautiful/insert-nice-synonym here.” But I digress.)  
I do hope your New Year’s was pleasant enough. Padfoot and I spent it running around a park while everyone else slept. It’s stupid, really. Fireworks only happen a few times a year - Bonfire Night and New Year’s mainly - so why wouldn’t you want to enjoy them? I love fireworks.   
Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were doing and if there was anything you needed. Thanks for helping me during my “meltdowns.”  
Hermione

“Who are you writing?” Sirius asked sleepily from his end of the sofa. 

“A girl I met at St. Mungo’s.” She folded the parchment to seal later. “Sirius, what do you know about a man named Jugson?”

Sirius looked up sharply, “Gwilym Jugson? He was a sixth year when we started at Hogwarts. Tall, intimidating, Slytherin. I think he joined the Death Eaters shortly after graduating. Why?”

“Alexia - the girl I met at St. Mungo’s - she said he’s her father. I was just curious.”

“How in the world did you manage to befriend a Death Eater’s daughter?”

“I didn’t know she was a Death Eater’s daughter. I don’t think she even knows. It sounded like her mother raised her by herself back in Romania. I was just curious what kind of man he was.”

“Welsh and very proud of that fact, if I remember correctly.” Sirius shrugged. “What was she in St. Mungo’s for?”

“Cancer.” Seeing the blank expression on Sirius’ face she began to explain. “Quite simply, her body is attacking her. There’s these things called cells in our bodies, and generally, they do everything they’re supposed to. But sometimes they decide not to do their job and instead attack you. Alexia’s is a cancer of the blood. It’s a Muggle disease.”

“Why…”

“Why is her body attacking her?” Hermione shrugged. “There’s some things that definitely cause leukemia - cancer of the blood - but it’s unlikely that is what made Alexia so sick. For some, like her, there’s no reason.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, why does a witch have a Muggle disease?”

“She’s a Squib, Sirius. The magic in her is just strong enough that Muggle methods won’t work, but weak enough that she isn’t guarded against those diseases.” 

“Will… is it serious?”

Despite the severity of the conversation topic, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “No, you’re Sirius.”

Sirius slung an arm around Hermione, laughing. “That I am, that I am.” They sat for a while in silence, Sirius’ arm around her. She was drifting off, resting her head on his shoulder before she sleepily admitted, “Love you, Sirius.” 

He was wide awake as he kept his arms loosely around her. His mind would not rest with Hermione’s admission. He was planning on inviting her to Grimmauld Place for the Easter holidays but now it didn’t seem such a good idea. He enjoyed their friendship and he was a much calmer person with her around. But he also didn’t want Hermione to get the wrong idea. He was old enough to be her father - easily - and war was dangerous enough without worrying about entanglements.   
***  
Dear Hermione,  
I’m not used to getting letters. The Healers would not shut up about it for hours. My mother hasn’t owled me since I left Sighişoara so this is the first letter I’ve received since coming here months ago. I think they had given up on me having a life. They’re always talking about how useful it is to have friends and contacts with the outside world. Keeps me fighting, they say.   
Of course, I think that’s utterly ridiculous. I’m not going to fight this disease because of someone on the outside. I’m going to do it for me. Because I’m seventeen and because of this damn illness I missed tryouts for the Royal Ballet School. I was supposed to audition shortly after my sixteenth birthday but leukemia got me instead. Oh, what fun.   
I do suppose I should get something out of this pen-pal relationship besides making the Healers shut up about getting me involved in whatever stupid art therapy they want to try next. I’m adjusted just fine, thank you very much! But I digress. Do you happen to know anything about my father? I want nothing to do with him, of course, but the Healers say that having his medical history would be useful. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. You seem to be well-enough connected to the wizarding world, hence why I ask.  
Alexia

Hermione had to chuckle at Alexia’s letter. It was obvious the girl was bored out of her mind at the hospital and sick of being treated like she not only had lost her hair but also lost her mind. If she was a ballerina, as she had mentioned, she certainly didn’t have the mouth (or pen) of one. But as Hermione thought back to their meeting in St. Mungo’s, she realized Alexia did have the look of a prima ballerina, albeit a very sick one. She made a mental note to find some ballet magazines to accompany her response so Alexia would have something interesting to read that wasn’t outdated copies of Witch Weekly. 

Dear Alexia,  
I’m back at Hogwarts with its crazy schedule of classes leading up to our big final exams, so I’m not sure how often I’m going to be able to write. So enjoy the ballet magazines in place of contact. If you don’t like them, you could always use them to beat your Healers over the head? Not that I advocate violence…  
As for your father, I asked Padfoot about him. His name is Gwilym Jugson if you didn’t know. He’s Welsh, probably in his early 40s, and a…Death Eater. I know that name probably doesn’t mean anything to you. It’s a group of witches and wizards very concerned with blood status. You and I wouldn’t be worth anything to them. So good, I guess, that you hate him? I’m sure if you sent an owl in the random direction of Wales it would be able to find him. I don’t know how owls do it, but they’re always able to find a person, even if you don’t know where they are.   
I’m sorry I couldn’t offer more help. I’ve also sent you some fudge from the Hogwarts elves. I mentioned that a friend wasn’t feeling well and they instantly suggested these as the cure-all. Not so sure about that, but I tasted one, and they are quite good.   
Hermione

Dear Hermione,   
The ballet magazines do make excellent whacking Healer tools, you are right. They like to poke and prod me awake at all hours of the night to make sure I’m getting enough fluids or to do diagnostic scans (as if anything has changed in the span of a few hours!) so I have taken to keeping one of the older ones rolled up under my pillow. They come near me and they get a whack. I’m sure it won’t be long before they take them away but for now, they work.   
They also allow me to not forget that ballet world I grew up in. I can barely do a grand plie, let alone anything en pointe right now. I tried the other day when I was having a good day. Nearly scared the Healer bringing me my lunch half to death. Guess I’ll have to do it again so she’s scared all to death? I jest...only a little.   
As for my father, thank you. It doesn’t matter that he’s a Death Eater to me. Just gives me more justification for my hatred of him. You want sordid details, well here you go. My father and my mum were in a relationship - she was on contract to be a liaison between one of the dragon breeding camps and the Ministry of Magic for a few months. But there was something (she’s never told me what) that spooked her and she wanted out, both of the relationship and England. My father forced my mum to stay for the rest of her contract. I’m a result of that force and a good deal of alcohol. Mum moved back to Romania and in with her sister, my Aunt Mihaela. Mum named me Jugson after him in the hopes he would offer some sort of monetary support - no such luck. Mum never really recovered from the few months she was in England so she wasn’t exactly the best, growing up. She got better after she met my step-father but by now most of the bridges have been burned.   
Anyway, the Healers are coming for my next dose of medicine. Good luck with all that studying.   
Alexia  
***  
Dear Rocky,   
I know, I know, before you scold me, I know I shouldn’t be writing to you. But I wanted to let you know against my better judgment, I’m inviting you and the pup home for the Easter holidays. Our favorite color-changer will pick you two up from the train station if you want.   
It’s been quiet without you all here. Moony and I have been trying to keep each other from being too mopey, but I miss your company. Hence the Easter invitation. I’m sure there are a few more books in the library you haven’t read. Plus, the park should finally be all green if you wanted to go out.   
Snuffles

Dear Snuffles,  
Too late. But I’m glad you wrote. The pup wants to stay - something about a girl and a ridiculous crush - and I don’t think I’m going to be able to sacrifice the studying time, I’m sorry. Maybe you could find a reason to be in Hogsmeade? They have some nice parks there too. Bring the books along - I’m sure I’ll find some time to read them. Not like any of us are sleeping much these days anyway. The pup is having nightmares - and they’re getting stronger. Sometimes his friend says he forgets a silencing charm and they wake the others up. I think the nightmares might be a connection between the snake and him, but I can’t prove it. And I can’t even begin to imagine how such a connection exists. The extra lessons aren’t going well. I wish someone else could teach him. There’s just too much bad blood between them.   
I hope to see you in February.   
Love, Rocky

She was able to meet Sirius for the Valentine’s Day Hogsmeade weekend. They met on the grounds of the Shrieking Shack as Snuffles and Rocky. For a few hours they were just a dog and a squirrel, chasing each other around the grounds, and when they both got too tired to chase, Rocky followed Snuffles up to the Shack. 

Sirius transformed and slumped back onto a dilapidated chair. “Next time we do that, remind me to take the books out of my coat. Those bloody things are heavy!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, sinking into a chair of her own. “You couldn’t do a featherweight charm?” She shivered as her body quickly cooled from the exertion. 

Sirius noticed and cast a warming spell on the room before transforming some rags into a blanket he tossed to her. “I could, but did I think of that? No. So I’m probably going to have bruises the size of hippogriffs because of you,” Sirius groused. 

“But, I’m worth it?” She teased. 

“You, yes. The books, no. Honestly, Hermione, why can’t you like something like knitting?” He pulled the books out of his coat and set them between the two of them.

“Because you’d end up getting stabbed with the needles sometime during your transformation.” She poked a tongue out at him. “Plus, you think it’s pointless if I knit for the house elves.”

“For the house elves, yes. For me or Moony or Harry or...anyone really, no.”

She laughed, “I’ll keep that in mind.” She reached out for a book sitting in front of Sirius. “This was all you could find about mental bonds?”

Sirius scrubbed the top of his head with a sigh. “No, but it’s all I could find that wouldn’t involve human sacrifice and gruesome images.”

“Voldemort seems to be good at the sacrificing humans bit, Sirius. Didn’t take you for squeamish.”

He huffed. “Fine, I didn’t bring them because some of them require a blood key to open and there’s no way you as a Muggleborn would have the right blood properties to open it.”

“Oh,” Hermione looked down, embarrassed. “Sirius, I am just trying to help Harry. He’s… struggling. It’s enough being a teenager without having to deal with a mass murderer that seems it’s his personal mission to destroy you.”

“I know, Rocky. I was a teenager once.” He looked away for a moment, “Of course, it was different times. We were just a bunch of stupid kids having fun.” He looked back at her, eyes burning bright. “If I could do anything besides bring James and Lily back or defeat Voldemort, it would be to give you all your innocence back.”

Hermione went over to him, sitting on the arm of his chair and wrapping her arms around him. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we, Sirius?” She closed her eyes as if afraid of the answer. 

“Yeah, Rocky, I think we are.”  
***  
In between classes, keeping Harry from going insane (or less insane than normal - he was a boy after all), practicing her Rocky form, researching mental magical connections, and corresponding with Alexia, Hermione was surprised to find the second term to fly by. Before she knew it, O.W.L.S had started and she was sitting in her History of Magic exam. Hermione heard Harry before she saw him. He was yelling as if in pain and she turned to see several examiners hurry over to him, escorting him from the room. Hermione finished the last essay question and sat, nervously waiting. She had a feeling something bad was happening. And she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it had something to do with Sirius. 

She and Ron met Harry where he was pacing anxiously. “Harry, what’s wrong?” Ron asked. Hermione could tell. There was only one person besides the two of them that would cause this kind of reaction. 

“Sirius,” she breathed. 

“Voldemort has him. In the Department of Mysteries.” Harry said in a clipped voice. “We have to go. Now.”

Hermione knew that if it was anyone other than Sirius she would be trying to convince Harry not to run into a situation - a potentially dangerous situation. But since it was Sirius, Hermione was ready to do exactly just that - run into a dangerous situation. “How do we get there?”

Ron looked between the two of them, eyes wide. “Hermione? We can’t just go charging into the…”

“How. Do. We. Get. There?” Hermione gritted out. 

“Thestrals,” Luna said out of nowhere. 

The idea that Hermione was going to be flying on an invisible animal was slightly terrifying. It did, however, sound a hell of a lot better than brooms. With a thestral, at least, she could pretend she was just riding a horse… an invisible horse. Shaking away her fears, she looked at the group that had assembled in front of her. 

Harry voiced what she was thinking. “Then let’s go.” 

***  
Sirius knew James did some stupid things in his youth. Heck, he had probably been involved in more than seventy-five percent of those. So when he heard that Harry had run off to the Department of Mysteries thinking he had been captured by Voldemort well, that just took the cake. After this fiasco was over, they were going to have a serious talk. But first, they had to get through this. 

“Padfoot, you can’t go,” Remus tried to stop him. “We’ll be okay without you. And Harry’s going to need you in one piece when it’s over.”

“Moony, I have beaten you in duels every single time we competed in school. I can handle myself.” Sirius said lowly, fists clenched. 

“Sirius, no! You can’t go barreling in there. You can do more by staying here and ...”

“REMUS,” Sirius yelled, interrupting the werewolf. “You can’t stop me. It’s not just Harry that needs the help. It’s Hermione, and…” he paused, remembering his friendship with Hermione wasn’t common knowledge, “Ron and whoever else joined Harry in storming the Ministry.” 

Remus nodded sadly, giving his best friend a quick hug. “Don’t die, Padfoot. I can’t lose anyone else.”

“I’ll do my best. Now, let’s go.” He was torn between two different objectives when they entered the Atrium. He saw Hermione sprawled on the floor, the evidence of some nasty curse blooming across her stomach just visible from the raised hem of her sweater. But Harry was battling Lucius and some other Death Eater single-handedly and surely he needed some help? In the end, the conscious one won his attention and Sirius flew into action. 

He had always loved dueling. It was like the godforsaken dancing his mother had made him learn, but with magic. He swirled around, flinging hexes and curses at every turn. But then he caught himself in a battle with his delightful cousin. 

“See, if you had paid more attention in our classes with dear Aunt Walburga, maybe you would be a bit better at this,” Bellatrix cackled. 

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius yelled with a laugh. The red bolt of light hit him squarely in the chest and as he stumbled backward into the Veil, he could have sworn he heard both Harry and Hermione scream his name. 

Across the room, Hermione had raised her head to see the fight around her just in time to see Sirius stumble, and just in time for her heart to shatter into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please leave feedback in whatever way moves you. :) Thanks always to my ever lovely beta Sharla and artist Jessi.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing not knowing what day it was or what time it was, but at the same time not caring. She drifted in and out of consciousness as people bustled and talked around her. She knew she should wake up - that she should perform some sort of action that would prove to those that sounded like worried friends that she was alive. But it all felt like too much effort. 

After what was probably several days of just drifting, Hermione’s mind told her Enough. Moping and lying in bed wasn’t going to get Sirius back. There was a war to fight and she needed to fight - for Harry, for Sirius’ memory, for her parents, for herself. So, she tested muscles, wincing as she shifted positions. It felt like every muscle was on fire. Her stomach felt raw as if she had a particularly bad sunburn and they had rubbed the inflamed skin with sandpaper. Her fingers reached down to touch the damage but she found it covered with a thick layer of gauze covering her from the tops of her breasts down to her waist. As she stretched her feet out she met resistance. Painfully lifting her head, Hermione saw Ginny curled up at her feet. 

“Gin?” Hermione croaked. 

“You’re awake!” Ginny jumped up from the bed, hugging her. 

“Ow, Ginny, stop. That hurts.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Ginny pulled back, eyes searching. “So, I guess you’re not all healed then.”

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. “No, why would I be?”

“Madam Pomfrey had to put a Stasis charm on you while she was figuring out what you got cursed with. When she lifted it and treated you, she said you might not wake up until you were healed.”

“Well, I’m definitely not all better,” Hermione said crossly. “Hand me a glass of water?”

The way Ginny jumped up to get it made Hermione think that not only had the curse damage been worse than she initially thought, but that she had been out for quite some time. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week. You missed the train back.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Dumbledore is letting me, Ron, and Harry stay until you can go home. He said he’s owled your parents letting them know you’ll be a few days late. Apparently, he had some lie prepared about how you chose to do a special exam that could only take place after term ended.”

His owl is going to be flying in circles for awhile, trying to find people that don’t exist anymore, she thought while sipping the water. “Did we lose anyone else?”

“No. Just Sirius.”

Hermione winced involuntarily. The memory of him falling through the Veil flooded back to her and she nearly shut her eyes with the emotional pain it brought back. 

“Hermione?”

“I’m fine. Just,” she thought quickly, searching for a half-truth, “why does it always have to be that Harry keeps getting people taken from him?” 

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know. And it’s not fair. But McGonagall said something about it being war.”

“Professor McGonagall’s back?”

“Yeah, she got back on Sunday.”

Hermione was thankfully interrupted from making any more small talk with Ginny when Madam Pomfrey came bustling over. “Ah, good, you’re awake. Miss Weasley, if you’ll wait behind the curtain, I need to check on Miss Granger’s wound.”

Madam Pomfrey helped Hermione sit up, propping up pillows behind her so she could rest against them, and then began to unwind the gauze. Hermione looked down in interest as the purple shiny scar appeared with each turn. “Is the scar permanent?”

The Healer nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so. I tried to minimize the damage as best I could, but it was Dark Magic.” She touched the angry, hot skin with a practiced touch. “But I do have to say, it looks infinitely better than it did when you came in on Friday.” Madam Pomfrey paused, “The physical side looks like it should be healed within a week. You could probably go home tomorrow if you promise not to overexert yourself.” The unspoken “The emotional wounds will take much longer to heal,” hung in the air. 

Hermione smiled briefly. “It would be nice to get out of this bed.” She ran a hair through her hair, fingers getting caught in the snarl of curls, “To take a shower. Merlin, I must look disgusting.”

“Oh, we don’t care Hermione! We’re just happy you’re awake and okay!” Harry said from the doorway on the other side of the curtain. He sounded falsely chipper, a sign he still hadn’t quite recovered.

“Ginny come and get you?”

“Yeah. She wanted to let Ron and I you were awake.” Harry waited until Hermione had been rebandaged and placed in a clean dressing gown before sitting down next to her. “He’ll be down in a bit. I think he fell asleep.” He waited a few moments before asking, “So, you’re doing okay?”

“I could ask the same of you, or Ron, or Ginny, or anyone really.”

“Ron’s fine - he’s going to have some very, very faint scaring from the brain’s tentacles, but other than that, he’s fine. Ginny had some sort of ankle injury but Madam Pomfrey patched her up in a few minutes.”

“And you?”

Harry grimaced. “Physically, I’m fine.”

Hermione let out a bark of a laugh. “Yeah, I know all about that.”

“Hermione, what was going on with you and Sirius?” Harry asked Hermione carefully. The question he had just asked was one that she had been expecting for months. 

“We are...were,” Hermione struggled with the past tense. “He was my best friend. He was helping me become an Animagus.”

Harry gaped at her, “Did you succeed? What’s your form?”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I’m a squirrel.” She shook her head. “But that’s not important now.” 

“That’s amazing, Hermione.” Harry grinned. “You always were the smartest of all of us.”

Hermione shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “But I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t smart enough to save him.” She shut her eyes tightly, willing the tears to stop. She wanted to stop crying. She wanted to stop grieving. She wanted to do something. Crying wasn’t going to bring him back. 

“Then use that big, big brain of yours and figure out a way to bring him back.” Hermione’s eyes flew open in surprise as Harry spoke. “Get my godfather and the man you love back.”

She brushed her tears away determinedly, ignoring the sharp pain in her shoulder when she moved her arm. “You don’t mind that…”

Harry chuckled. “You were happy? He was happy? I don’t care what you call it - a relationship, a friendship, whatever - you love him. That’s all that matters. I love him too - he’s… he was my godfather.” He awkwardly patted her shoulder, “Go get him back.”

“I’m going to need access to the library at Grimmauld Place. How am I going to do that?” 

“Dumbledore said Sirius willed it to me. I’ve got to go back once we’ve left Hogwarts to take care of Kreacher and a few other things. You can come with. Owl your parents, tell them you’ll be a few days late? They can still pick you up from King’s Cross.”

At the mention of her parents, Hermione started her crying anew. “They’re gone, Harry,” she said in between sobs. She had lost the one she had confided in and she wasn’t sure she could keep lying. Harry had lied about the dreams and his connection to Voldemort, and look how that had turned out. Not that Hermione blamed Harry - she didn’t think it was possible to blame him. He didn’t know how to handle the situation - just like Hermione hadn’t known how to deal with her parents before Sirius came along. 

“They...died? When? How? What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hermione exhaled shakily. “Not dead, no. But they’re in Australia under different names. I modified their memories - gave them new names, new identifying papers, and added a compulsion charm to get them to move to Australia.”

“Why? When?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the questions Harry was peppering her with. She bit her lip and looked down, hair covering her face. “Because I knew with my position as a Muggleborn, as your friend, as an outspoken opponent of Voldemort...they wouldn’t be safe. And even if they don’t ever remember having a daughter, at least I know they’ll be safe.” She took a deep breath. “As for when, after we came home from our fourth year. That’s why I was already at Grimmauld Place when you arrived.”

“But you can reverse it, right? After the War is over?”

Wiping the tears again, Hermione felt the deep despair she had felt initially after she had come across the book that told her about that likelihood. “No, it’s not likely. Memory charms are notoriously difficult to unpick. It’s... safer if I don’t even try.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I wish you had told me.”

“You had enough to deal with Harry,” she gave a sad smile, “and I wanted to pretend everything was still normal.”

Harry snorted. “As normal as life can be when you’re friends with me.”

***  
Standing in the entryway of Grimmauld Place was less painful than Hermione expected. She just imagined that Sirius was gone, out as Padfoot, and she was able to get to the library without too much trouble. But once she swung the door open to the library, it was an entirely different story. There were too many memories here. Harry had left to deal with Kreacher so she was alone. She shut the door behind her and leaning against it, began to cry. She vowed after this cry she wasn’t going to cry. She was going to get things done. She was going to rescue him. And after that? Well, they were going to beat the shit out of Sir Voldyshorts. 

She pulled the extra trunk she had found in a spare bedroom into the room and made her way to the bookshelves, scanning for the few books she knew might help, and then others that just sounded interesting. Since she was seventeen now she didn’t have to worry about the Trace as she placed all the books in a trunk and placed the appropriate enchantments on it. Hermione was almost ready to go when she noticed a letter sitting on Sirius’ desk. Rocky, it said. Her fingers drifted over the parchment and the desk around it, unsure of if she wanted to pick it up. But eventually curiosity got the better of her and she opened it. 

_Dear Hermione and Rocky,_  
I didn’t have much time to write this, so I’m sorry it’s not my usual aristocratic handwriting. I just wanted to let you know there are a few things in my will that go to you and not Harry. There are some gold and a few pieces of jewelry that I thought you might like (don’t worry, I checked for curses), but the main thing I left you is the library. Take whatever you want. The section at the end closest to the window I wouldn’t touch without levitating them, but the rest should be safe for you.  
If you are ever in Romania, there’s a house you can use. I was there for a bit after the Triwizard Tournament and I changed the wards to allow you, Harry, and Ron in. There’s some more information in my will that Harry will get, including some money for you.  
I know you’ll miss me, but it will be okay, Rocky. Stay safe - don’t let any dogs get to you. That’s my job and my job only. I’m the only one allowed to chase you, remember?  
Take care of Harry for me. And Remus too - make sure he gets his chocolate. And fight kitten. Fight with everything you have.  
_Love Sirius and Padfoot_

“Hermione?” She turned around to see Remus, red-rimmed eyes with dark circles underneath.

“Remus,” she was about to ask him how he was but that seemed obvious. “You look like shit.”

Remus laughed. “Yeah, yeah I do. You’re not looking so hot yourself. That curse wound healing okay?”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s healing. It’ll scar.”

“Scars can be useful. They can remind us of what we’re fighting for,” Remus admitted sadly. 

“Yeah, or they can remind us of the pain we got in the first place.” She shook her head. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“To collect my things. Sirius was letting me stay here.” 

“Oh, Remus, I’m sure you can stay. Harry said he was sending Kreacher to Hogwarts, but if you can manage without a house elf, the house should be yours.” She motioned around her, “Plus, I could use the help.”

“With?”

“I’m going to get him back. I’m going to find a way to bring him back.”

“Oh Hermione, no. Let him go. I know it hurts, but you can’t bring him back. And I don’t want Harry to lose you in the process.”

“Why would I lose her?” Harry came up behind them. 

“Because she wants to bring Sirius back. That search can only end in a world of hurt.” 

“Oh, that. Yeah, I know about that. Encouraged it actually. We’ve got to try.” After Hermione had told Harry about her parents and they had agreed to try a way to bring Sirius back, Harry had offered her all the mental support he could give. He mentioned that he was really not the brains of the operation so when the research part was over and she needed him for the brawn as he had put it, he would be there. Harry had also mentioned something along the lines of Don’t keep secrets, Hermione. Of course, Hermione had every intention of not telling Harry everything. Someone could only take so much disappointment.

“Remus can stay here, right?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. 

“Sure. It’ll give you someone to help with the research, right?”

“Argh!” Remus spat out in frustration. “You two can’t do this!”

Hermione laughed. “Then you don’t know me very well Remus Lupin. That just pushes me to try even harder.”  
***  
The library seemed so different without Sirius there. Physically, much of it was the same. There were still the same piles of paperwork and letters on the desk. There was still the couch they used for their midnight chats. But it was so different, too. It was as if someone had sucked out the energy from the room. Hermione found it incredibly exhausting to be in the library for too long. She ended up taking books from the library and moving to Sirius’ bedroom to do her research. 

Of course, that presented its own problems. Although being around Sirius’ things in his bedroom didn’t bother her the same way the library did, it did raise some questions when Ron or any of the other Weasley’s came to visit. Mrs. Weasley had barely allowed Hermione to stay at Grimmauld Place as it is. Even though she had explained that she was of age and that Molly had no say over this, Mrs. Weasley had pushed and pushed. Hermione had also explained that Remus would be staying with her, though that just seemed to fuel the fire. 

“What are you going to do when the full moon comes?” Mrs. Weasley had pointed out as if Hermione hadn’t thought of it before. 

“Remus will be locked in the basement that’s been heavily warded against his escape. He’ll be taking his Wolfsbane - Sirius put a provision in his will so that Remus will always be supplied - so he’ll be harmless.” 

“But is it really appropriate for you to be living Remus, all by yourself?”

Hermione had to resist rolling her eyes. “Mrs. Weasley, I really think that’s not any of your concern. If I need any help, I’ll request it.”

“Hermione, you are in no fit state to be deciding such things for yourself,” Mrs. Weasley had bristled at her tone and bit back at Hermione. 

“I am of age, Mrs. Weasley. And as I said before, this is none of your concern.”

Mrs. Weasley had been tense with her ever since, only inviting her over for dinner once. Because of that, Hermione didn’t want the matron to find her in Sirius’ bedroom. She eventually settled on the basement kitchen for her research.  
***  
_Dear Alexia,_  
Have you ever lost someone close to you? I didn’t tell you a lot about Sirius but now that he’s gone it hurts. But he isn’t the first person I’ve lost. I’m a Muggleborn and because of my friends, I’m going to be targeted by the head of the Death Eaters. So I modified my parents’ memories in a Wizarding part of London to get around the trace - erased myself from their memories and sent them on their way to Australia to open a dental practice there. (It’s a Muggle doctor for teeth. If you really want me to go into more detail, I can, but most people stop being interested after hearing that.) Yeah, so they’re gone. That’s why I was having a panic attack outside of the hospital room. It was my first holiday without them. Seeing my friend’s family all together… it was too much.  
Anyway, I was dealing with that and I needed help with some tricky Transfiguration that I knew Sirius could help me with. (Wow, that was circuitous!) But in the process of helping me with that and not pushing and not prying into what was happening, it was as if he became home. I felt safe. I felt like someone understood what I was going through, even if he had never gone through it himself. (Nevermind that I could have told my friends, I just chose not to - to protect them.)  
So long story longer, we became really good friends. I have to admit that maybe, in my teenage girl fantasies, it could have been more. But now I don’t get that chance. There was a fight, a battle really, at the Ministry a month or so ago and Sirius was there. He was there to protect me and my friend - his godson (yeah, I know, I can’t pick the easy ones, can I?). But in the process, he disappeared through some sort of portal or dimension or… I really, really don’t know what it was other than it looked like a veil of some sort.  
And now I’m not really sure how to go on. That sounds really melodramatic. I mean, I still eat and shower and talk to people. I still function; I still exist. But it’s like I’m on a different plane of reality - one that doesn’t want to be alone. So I’ve thrown myself into researching a way to get him back. I don’t think he died - I think he’s just off somewhere and with the right spell and foolish wand-waving (as my Potions professor would say), I could bring him back.  
I’m rambling, I’m sorry. His godson and I are grieving together but in our own way and so I don’t want to bother him with it. Plus, he’s staying at his Aunt and Uncle’s house and they hate magic so I don’t want to have owls keep showing up.  
Hope you’re doing okay. I’m sending another ballet magazine.  
_Hermione_

_Dear Hermione,_  
I lost my cousin, Luca. He was my Aunt Mihaela’s son from her first marriage. He was five years younger than me. He was into dance, just like me. He used to love trying on my old tutus and dance around the room with me. He was the sweetest little towhead and I adored having a little brother. But he got hit by a car when he was on his bike and that was it. Not a thing any doctor anywhere could do about it, magical or not. It doesn’t matter if you have the most brilliant doctor in the world. Sometimes you can’t be saved. Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?  
Great - thanks for making me all sappy. If the Healers ask, it is just a reaction to the medicine. It’s making my skin all dry and itchy, why wouldn’t it make my eyes water and tears stream down my face? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  
Thanks, again, for the ballet magazine. While they are good, they also make me angrier than normal because I can’t do that level of ballet anymore. Hell, I can’t even go up en pointe without collapsing. I hate this stupid fucking disease, Hermione.  
And if I could get my former life back so I could dance? If I could get Luca back? I’d do whatever it took. Magic, murder, anything. I know that’s probably not the answer you want, but it’s the answer you’re going to get.  
_Alexia_  
***  
“Hermione, take a break,” Remus stood in front of her, holding a cup of tea with a chocolate biscuit on the saucer. “You’ve been at it for hours. Weeks, really.”

She accepted the tea and took a sip before answering. “I have taken a break or two. I’ve done all my summer reading for classes. I’ve finished most of the homework too. Those were breaks.”

“I meant for fun - you need to take a break to have some fun.”

“I go out and run around as Rocky every night.” She set the cup down, redoing the giant rat’s nest of a messy bun she had it thrown up in most days. 

Remus groaned in frustration. “You know what I mean!” Every night he tried to get her to do something out of the house. Sometimes it was just a walk but other nights it was a concert or a museum or even a nice dinner. He had said something about acting like her parent since she didn’t have any to make sure she ate, slept, and got out. That had earned him a smack and she had locked him out of the cabinets where they kept the chocolate.

But that had been several days ago and she had forgiven him. She knew it must be hard for Remus, too. He helped every once in awhile in her research but mainly he stayed away from the stacks of books she had across the house. Hermione still missed her parents and Sirius every day and there were so many little reminders of him throughout the rooms. Some days she couldn’t read from the tears blurring her vision. But the research helped. And if going to whatever cultural event helped Remus, she figured she should give it a chance. “Give me one more hour and then we can do whatever mopey Moony thing you have in mind.”

“Muggle movie theater - Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” Remus supplied. 

“Right, so give me another hour and we’ll go to this movie.”

Remus rolled his eyes but let her be. Fifty-five minutes later she was going to finish the page she was on and call it a night. She could hear Remus’ footsteps on the stairs leading up to the library, but then a spell’s heading caught her eye. The Innocently Convicted Reversal Spell. 

This spell can reverse the effects of being innocently convicted. With the proper wording and the memory or bottled confession of the guilty, you can reverse the effects of the original conviction. 

“Time to go, Hermione.”

Hermione stood slowly, still holding the book out in front of her. She turned, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“What?” When Hermione didn’t say something, he tried again. “What, Hermione? What is it?”

Hermione shook her head, still unable to speak. She had only been speechless once before in her life and that was when Professor McGonagall had told her she was a witch and had a place at Hogwarts. This time it felt different, though just as profound. 

“You found something.” Remus had moved to behind her, reading over her shoulder easily with his height. He picked the book up from her. “It can wait until later.”

She whipped around, hair flying into her mouth at the force. “But don’t you understand? We can  
get him back!”

“It also says something else,” he pointed to a line a bit further down the page. This spell has not been tested on those who have died before being cleared.

“Just because it hasn’t been tested doesn’t mean it won’t work, Moony. I have to try.” She was determined. Hermione watched with interest as Remus began to pace, scrubbing his face over and over again. If it was closer to the full moon Hermione would have thought it was the wolf taking over, his purer and baser animal instincts overriding what control he had. But it wasn’t close enough to his time of the month to be that. So that meant something about the spell she had found was bothering him. 

“Don’t… you want me to try?” She felt like a small child trying to reason why her parents wouldn’t allow her ice cream when really, it seemed like the best possible option. 

Remus stopped his pacing and looked down, then out a window before answering with one word. “No.”

“But why?”

“Hermione, you can’t possibly understand, what it feels like to lose everything.”

“No. I just know what it feels like to lose my parents by my own hand and to lose my best friend because he was trying to save me and another of my best friends!” Hermione exploded. Her hair crackled with magic fueled by her anger. “So, you have to give me more than an ‘I can’t possibly understand’ to prevent me from doing everything in my power to get our best friend back.”

“Because I’ve lost everyone once and Sirius twice. I can’t do it a third time.”

“So, let me get this straight, you would rather live the rest of your life without seeing Sirius, your best friend because you’re too scared you’ll lose him again?” When she saw Remus’ almost imperceptible nod, she continued, “Well that is absolutely ludicrous and you are an absolute imbecile for thinking that.” 

“You can call me whatever you want, Hermione. It’s nothing I haven’t called myself before,” Remus said with a sigh, sinking into a chair, the book clattering to the floor. 

Hermione kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on the arms of his chair. She leaned back on her heels and looked up at him. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose him more than once, but I promise you that if we get him back, and if goes off and does something reckless again, I will personally make sure that you or Moony get the first whack at him… after me of course.” Hermione turned serious as she relayed the next part. “He is my best friend too. And I need him back.”

Remus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a moment he put his hands on hers. Opening his eyes, he nodded. “But you have to promise me one thing.” 

“Name it.”

“We’ll try this one spell. But if it doesn’t work, that’s it. You leave him be.” Hermione wanted to argue, to plead with him that she would do whatever it took. She wanted to argue that Sirius deserved that much. But Remus cut her off, “I don’t want you to lose your life and soul to bring him back. Sirius would kill me for letting you get that way. For letting you go too far.” 

She chuckled, “So, can we still catch this movie you wanted to see?”

***  
_Dear Alexia,_  
Remember how I told you about Sirius, and how you said you’d do anything to get Luca back? Well, I might have found a way to get him back. But first, I have to tell you a hell of a lot of backstory and I’m a little wary of using letters to communicate after they kept getting intercepted last year at Hogwarts. Can we meet at St. Mungo’s on Sunday afternoon?”  
_Hermione_

_Dear Hermione,_  
I’ll be in the tea shop.  
_Alexia_

Hermione brought the book with her to St. Mungo’s, turning it over uneasily in her hands as she scanned the room to locate Alexia. “You’re going to wear off the spine with that turning,” the bald young woman approached her. “I’ve got tea over there for us. Chamomile - you look nervous enough to not need caffeine.”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

Alexia cut her off with a wave, “Don’t apologize. You probably have a reason to be.” She picked up the mug. “So what’s the book for?”

“Let me explain, first. Sirius, you know, is, was, my best friend…”

“Love of your life,” Alexia interrupted to only receive an exasperated huff by Hermione before she continued. 

“They said he cast a spell that caused an explosion that killed twelve Muggles and a wizard.”

“I don’t take you as the someone to fall head over heels in love with a mass murderer, so…”  
“He was framed by the wizard. A rat, named Peter Pettigrew. And I mean that literally. He can transform into a rat. He sold out his friends, James and Lily Potter, to Voldemort. Sirius went to confront him and Peter blew up the street, cut off his finger, and transformed into his rat form. He was in Azkaban for twelve years before breaking out. He’s been on the run ever since. Well, not exactly on the run - just in hiding.”

“Okay, and he died. Why does this all matter to how you’re going to get him back?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the book. “Because he didn’t die; he fell into the Veil. I think if I perform this spell,” she pointed to the page, “I can get him back.”

Alexia read quickly before looking up with another question. “This book says you need the memories of the person who actually committed the crime. So, how are you going to get the rat’s recollections? Do you even know where he’s currently hiding?”

“I have an idea. He’s a Death Eater and helped Voldemort regain his body, so I’m imagining he’ll be close to that monster.”

“Wait, what? Helped him regain his body?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep up much with the magical world in Romania? Well, that and they probably aren’t covering it overseas much yet…”

Alexia shrugged. “Mum got the Romanian daily magic newspaper but once she realized I was a Squib, she stopped using as much magic. Aunt Mihaela would use it around the house, but it really isn’t much of a part of my life.” 

“It’s really a long story, and probably not mine to tell. Evil dude somehow regains his body by having rat sacrifice his hand, taking a bone from his father’s grave, and some blood from his enemy, also one of my best friends.” Hermione watched as Alexia rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Yes, he definitely does have a flair for the dramatic. I’d laugh more if it wasn’t a matter of life or death.”

“We got off-topic, sorry, back to the rat...Peter, was it?”

“Right, Peter. So somehow I’ve got to infiltrate myself into the Death Eater camp and get Pettigrew’s memories. And figure out where in the world is he hiding.”

“There’s been rumors in Romania about the vampire community aligning with some evil dude they call ‘Cruplord.’ Maybe that’s him?”

Hermione snorted at Voldemort’s other name which sounded a whole lot like “Craplord.” “It’s possible. I’d have to look into it. But there’s another problem. I am a recognizable face to the Death Eaters. I would have to transform myself so that nobody would know who I really am.” She put a finger to her lips in thought, “And I’d need a believable cover story for why I just ‘came across’ the camp.”

“Use me.”

“What?” Hermione set down her cup in surprise. 

“Use me,” Alexia said with a shrug. “I’m a Death Eater’s daughter, am I not? What better excuse - saying I want to find out about the ‘family business’?” She feigned air quotes before continuing, “As much as I hate him, it’s a plausible excuse. He knows I exist - Mum told me that when I asked a few weeks ago - but beyond that, nothing, not even that I’m a Squib. You could basically be me without much work, besides some glamours.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Hermione looked at her, wide-eyed. “But what about if he writes to your mother?”

“I’ll write her a letter saying you need to be me to get back at him. Mum doesn’t like him any more than I do.” Alexia made it sound so easy. And maybe it was easy, but it sounded too simple. She had Moody’s voice in her head saying this was too much of a coincidence. That just when Hermione needed to infiltrate the Death Eaters, an estranged Death Eater daughter appears? 

“Why would you do this?” Hermione didn’t want to be suspicious, but given the circumstances, she figured it was probably for the best. After all, this wasn’t just Sirius’ life on the line, but hers. 

“Because it’s important to you. And you have been my only friend since I got sick. And…” Alexia sighed, “I trust you.” 

“You trust me?” Hermione asked, dumbfounded.

“You tell the truth.”

“And?”

“I’m dying, Hermione. I know it, the Healers know it. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll get five more years. If I’m not going to dance in a company, I might as well do something with my life, even if it’s someone else living mine.”

“Oh, Alexia,” Hermione began before Alexia stopped her by putting up her hands. 

“Don’t you dare pity me. Or I’ll think you’re insane for having panic attacks in the hallways of hospitals.” Alexia’s eyes flashed in anger. “I want to help you, but I’ll not do it if you are going to pity me.” 

“That’s fair,” she admitted with a smile. “So, how do we get started?”

“I tell you all about my Mum, growing up in Romania, and how much I hate my father.”

“We’re going to need more tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and the story so-far! As always, thanks goes to my lovely beta Sharla and my artist, Jessi.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Gwilym,_  
You’ve never met me, although, according to Mum, you know about me. I’m your daughter, Alexandrina Jugson. My friends call me Alexia. I knew you existed but not who you were until recently. I guess Mum refused to let me know anything until I became of age. I’m interested in meeting you. Mum only told me horrible things, but I’m interested in getting to know you. I’m currently in London, but I am headed back to Romania sometime in October if you’re in the area.  
I’ve attached a picture of me - it’s a few years old, I’m sorry - but thought you deserved to see what I look like.  
_Your daughter, Alexia_

 _Dear Alexia,_  
You are a beautiful young woman, just like your mother. You’re right, I don’t know much about you, other than your birthday and that your mother didn’t want me to have any contact with you. I am planning on being in Romania in October so we’ll have to schedule that meeting. I’ll be fairly busy between now and then, so please don’t take it personally if I can’t respond.  
_Gwilym_

Hermione handed Alexia the letter she had received from Gwilym, pulling at the sleeve of her blue cardigan in nervousness. “He wrote back.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, “You wanted that outcome, right?” She took the letter and read it, briefly running a hand over her bald head. When Hermione nodded, she continued. “And hey, he’s not acting like a complete and utter arse, so you also have that going for you.”

Hermione exhaled shakily. “What if I mess up? What if he can sense it?”

“He knows absolutely nothing about me other than my birthday and the picture we sent him. Even the letter is in your handwriting. So, unless you plan on going around and announcing ‘Death to Voldemort,’” Alexia’s voice lowered as she mentioned the Dark wizard, “I think you’ll be fine.”

“I’m still not sure, Alexia,” Hermione could feel her breathing quicken and she willed herself to be calm. “But, I think I have a solution.”

“Solutions are good. Keeping cool is also good.” Alexia grinned, “You’re making progress.” Hermione had been working on anxiety levels since they had agreed she was to impersonate Alexia. Even though Alexia had given Hermione free reign on her interpretation of Alexandrina Jugson, there was one thing she had insisted on - for Hermione to be calm and able to work herself out of a panic attack before it became fully formed. “So, what is this solution?”

“Occlumency.”

“That sounds like some sort of disgusting disease.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Not quite. It’s a magical way to block people from going through your mind.”

Alexia huffed, pushing a tube away from her arm. “You magic people are weird. You’ve thought of a way to read people’s minds but you can’t figure out how to fix astigmatism and you use quills. Quills! Seriously, I think you guys would go insane if you ever discovered a ballpoint pen.” She threw up her hands in exasperation, laughing at the strange reaction she was getting from the others in the tea room. “You guys are so ridiculous.”

Hermione chuckled, “You forget that I’m a Muggleborn, Alexia. I know all about ballpoint pens. I prefer quills, honestly. Betting for tickling your classmates or scratching your nose. Plus, auto-refilling quills was one of the first spells I taught myself at Hogwarts.” She pushed up her sleeves. “I should have thought of that before this. I should have been teaching myself ages ago. Even if I hadn’t decided to go through with this absolutely insane plan, I should have been teaching myself in case I got captured.”

“Oh, really, because that’s definitely the first thing I think of - yes, I need a way to protect my memories in case I get captured.” Alexia said sarcastically.

Hermione’s hand flew to her hair, pushing it out of the way with an impatient hand. “You don’t understand. It’s war. It means that I have to be prepared for all eventualities, especially considering who my friends are and my blood status. Do you know what they would do to me? To get information? Or just for fun?” She pulled the collar of her v-neck t-shirt aside to reveal the beginning of her scar from Dolohov. “I could have been dead several times over.”

Alexia looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I’m sorry...I didn’t know.”

She shrugged again, “You couldn’t possibly. You may be of this world, but you’re not really a part of it.”

“Would they… would they do the same thing to me? As a Squib?”

Hermione grimaced, “Truthfully?”

Alexia nodded. “No use to start lying now.”

“Your father might save you from death, but probably not torture. If anything, it might be worse. Death would be quick, painless maybe. But if they needed Gwilym to prove his loyalty, he wouldn’t be able to show mercy.”

Alexia met her gaze, mouth slightly ajar. “You’re setting yourself up for torture. Maybe death?”

Hermione closed her eyes with a nod. “Yeah.”

“And it’s worth it? Sirius is worth it?”

“Yeah, they’re worth it. It’s worth it.” She said quietly.

When Alexia looked back at her there was steel in her gaze. “So let’s see if you can teach me that Occlum...whatever that was called, and let’s do this right.”

***  
_Two Months Later_  
“Explain it again. Why are you meeting him?” Alexia asked.

Hermione groaned, “We’ve been going over this all summer, Alexandrina,” she said rolling her r’s ever so slightly as Alexia had taught her. “Can’t we just talk about boys or something today?”

“Your’s is beyond the Veil and mine is nonexistent, nor am I interested in guys.” Hermione spluttered on her tea which made Alexia grin. “What? Which part of that surprises you? That it’s pretty obvious you’re in love with Sirius or that I’m a lesbian ballerina?”

“I never said I was in love with Sirius. I said my girlish fantasies thought maybe, possibly, it could be more than friendship,” Hermione said with a blush. “Okay, back to the task at hand.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk about boys, Alexia,” Alexia retorted. Hiding a smirk in her cup, she said, “Pretend I’m him and let’s do this again.”

“I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to hear your side of the story. And I wanted you to tell me about a few rumors I’ve been hearing.”

“What rumors?”

“There’s been some rumors going around Timișoara, about a man named Cruplord.”

“Cruplord? What have you heard about him?” Alexia hid a smile at the dark wizard’s Romanian name.

“That he’s got the right idea about Muggles. That he’s got some great ideas about wizarding governance.” Hermione felt like throwing up but managed to keep herself passive.

Alexia broke character and smiled encouraging at Hermione. “That was good. Better than last time, still not great. You look tired. Meet again, tomorrow?”

“Pot meet kettle. But I can’t meet tomorrow. Remus and I are headed to Diagon Alley to get my supplies for the school year. We don’t have much time left. Classes will start soon.”

“I take it you’re not going to be comfortable continuing this via owl?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, not really.”

“And probably not a chance you’re going to be able to sneak off of Hogwarts grounds and visit me?”

“No, not a chance. I’m already going to have to use a Time-Turner to get away with the trip to Romania in October.”

“You could wait until Christmas - he should ask questions about why you’re able to get away from school anyway,” Alexia offered.

"He probably won't ask about school. You've been of age long enough that you should have graduated already. Anyway, Christmas is hard, Alexia. I'm not sure if I could hold it together enough to be the kind of spy I need to be," Hermione admitted.

"All the better for you to go." Alexia took another spoonful of the steaming broth. "It will keep you grounded - keep you focused. If you are at his house all you're going to think of is how last holiday you were with him and the Christmas before that you had your parents. You're going to struggle no matter what. Might as well make it so that you are doing something to get him back. That you're doing something to keep you from reliving every memory."

Hermione thought about it for a moment before nodding. "I'll have to make up an excuse for why I'm not going in October. But, you're probably right."

Alexia scoffed, "Of course I am. It's why you keep me around, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Hermione rolled her eyes, "so probably should get on that letter." She pulled a small black velvet pouch out of her bag and placed it on the table.

“What’s that?”

“Sirius left me a few things - his library, a house, and some jewelry,” Hermione pointed at the small bag. “I haven’t been able to open it yet.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and snatched the bag, dumping its contents onto the table. All of the pieces were platinum. There was a necklace with an emerald center surrounded by what could have easily have been three carats worth of diamonds. There was a set of beautiful teardrop pearl earrings, simple and tasteful enough to be worn every day. The third piece was a heavy men’s ring with a large carbonado diamond in the center. The phrase “Toujours Pur,” was engraved along the diamond. It reminded Hermione of the class ring her father had from when he graduated from dental school.

Hermione turned the ring over and over in her hands. It was clearly the Black heir ring and as such, something that should have been Sirius’ had he not been disowned, and Regulus’ if he had not died so young. She tried sliding it on several of her fingers and not only did it dwarf her slender fingers but the ring just slid off. “Why would he leave me this?”

Alexia pulled the bag towards her and pulled out a thin piece of paper. “Maybe this will explain?”

 _Rocky,_  
I’m really hoping that you will never get this jewelry, but of all the people I know still alive, you’re the only one who might have a use for these. The ring is my family’s ring. I’m sure it’s too big for your fingers. But you might think about putting it on a chain. Or don’t wear it - whatever you want.  
_Sirius_

Hermione handed the note over to Alexia with a smile. She unclasped her chain and slipped the ring on. It rested heavily at the top of her breasts. Hermione appreciated the weight, like a constant reminder of her mission to get Sirius back.

“It looks good on you,” Alexia commented. “Now, are you going to write that letter to my father or not?”

 _Dear Gwilym,_  
Mum wants me to come home for Christmas and with my vacation time being limited as it is, I’m not going to be able to swing a visit in October. But I should be able to spend a day or two with you at Christmas. Will you still be in Romania?  
I also wonder if you could tell me anything about some rumors I’ve heard about a man the Romanians call Cruplord. The most recent rumor I heard was that he is British and trying to reform the Ministry of Magic. It makes sense, the Ministry is so corrupt and doing nothing to help the magical people of Britain. I mean, it’s better than the Ministry in Bucharest, but that’s not difficult.  
Anyway, let me know if we can meet back around Christmas. I look forward to meeting you and getting to know you.  
_Alexia_  
***  
_3 months later_  
When Sirius had mentioned he had a house in Romania and left the address, Hermione hadn’t thought anything of it. But now that she needed to be in the country for Christmas to meet Alexia’s father, she found herself looking at the address with renewed interest. It was in Timisoara - the exact town Alexia had grown up in and where Hermione was to meet Gwilym. Alexia had offered her mother’s house - it would provide a better cover after all - but Hermione had declined.

She had taken a muggle flight to Bucharest and then a train to Timisoara. Unlocking the door to number 6 Strada Eugeniu de Savoya, Hermione had to chuckle. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she should have known that it wasn’t going to be understated since it was owned by the Black family. The outside was a simple yellow-washed building with dark green shutters that took up nearly half of the block. The inside was anything but. A white marble grand staircase spilled into the entryway. The room she decided to stay in was practically larger than the entirety of her floor in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione had to roll her eyes. Blacks.

“Are yous Mistress Rocky?” A voice to Hermione’s right asked, causing her to jump and whirl, wand drawn.

“I am. And who are you?” Hermione paused, looking down at the house elf. “And how do you know who I am?”

“I is Tribbie, Mistress. When Master Sirius was here last he made it so I would obeys you and Master Harry.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “How would you feel about getting paid, Tribbie?”

The little house elf put her hands on her nonexistent hips. “Master Sirius warned me Mistress might be like this.” Tribbie paused, “Does Mistress need anything?”

Hermione considered this for a moment. “Do you have a map of the city?” She probably wouldn’t need a map to explore but she definitely would if she wanted to find her way back to the house. “And a bottle of water?” She added as an afterthought. Tribbie nodded and with two pops disappeared and reappeared with the requested items. “Thanks, Tribbie, you said it was?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Please, call me Hermione. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Tribbie gave a beaming smile. “Ask for hard meals. Tribbie loves to cook and she hasn’t had a chance in forever.”

Hermione had to chuckle at that. “Okay, how does…” she racked her brain for the hardest dish she could think of, “risotto sound? And a chocolate souffle with a vanilla sauce for dessert?”

Tribbie nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, Miss… Hermione.” The elf paused. “There is one other thing, Mistress.”

“Yes?”

“House elves are able to go wherever their master or mistress is, but we have to be keyed to their magic specifically.”

Hermione had wondered how they did that. “So what do you need from me, Tribbie?”

The elf told her the wand movements and the incantation. After performing it, Tribbie said happily, “Nows I am able to know where you are in times of yous needing me.” And she flounced off in search of the ingredients for that elaborate dinner she had been wanting to make.

***  
After Hermione had taken a shower in the palatial bathroom and changed she headed out to the city with Tribbie’s map and water bottle in one hand. She had thought to apply her Alexia glamours for a few reasons. It was mainly for practice, but also because if Gwilym had been to Timisoara before, he could ask around to see if anyone had seen Alexia before. Of course, there was a chance that someone would slip that the true Alexia was a Squib, but that wasn’t one of the things Hermione was truly worried about.

Pulling her hood up, Hermione started down the street. It was cold and a light snow had started to fall. It made the old city almost mystical as she explored. There were some buildings that obviously had been built for cheap - concrete apartment blocks that looked depressing - but others looked as if they had been there for centuries, albeit with new coats of paint. Alexia had provided a few places she had enjoyed as a child so if Gwilym wanted to see “where she grew up,” Hermione would have a couple of options. Checking the map, she headed to the first one.

After checking out a few parks, candy shops, Alexia’s day school, and her ballet studio, Hermione headed to the water. It wasn’t the Thames, but it still made Hermione think of Sirius and their late night walks. She sat down on a bench across from the Bega Canal and watched people as they hurried along. It was starting to get dark and she would need to head back to the house soon if she wanted to be able to read the map without the assistance of her wand. Slipping her hand inside of her coat, she fingered Sirius’ ring around her neck. “I promise. I’ll get you back.”

***  
Tribbie had truly outdone herself. Each meal except for breakfast was a lavish affair with multiple courses. Hermione didn’t have a big appetite but she made an effort for Tribbie who seemed to be so happy to be cooking again. After two days of this, Hermione stopped Tribbie after breakfast, “I’m going to be out for lunch, and maybe dinner.”

“Misstr...Hermione will be safe? Return to Tribbie?”

“Yes, Hermione will return to Tribbie.”

“Good. Then Tribbie will do laundry today instead of cook.”

They had promised to meet near the Holy Trinity Statue in the old section of the city. Even with Alexia’s intel and the time prior to the meet, Hermione felt jittery. If it had been for any other reason than meeting a Death Eater while impersonating his daughter, she might have enjoyed sitting in the square.

Unirii Square had a church on two sides and the statue on another. Hermione focused on the snow-covered fountains, imagining what they would look like in the summer. It allowed her mind to dim its incessant worrying and focus on what was in front of her.

“Alexandrina?” A tall middle-aged man asked. “Are you Alexandrina Jugson?” The man repeated, his green eyes bright and questioning. His fine wavy black hair reminded her of Sirius but while Sirius’ face had exuded confidence, poise, and generally, happiness. This man - Gwilym - did not have the same aristocratic charm. While he didn’t look mean or the monster Hermione had expected him to look, he definitely didn’t look like a person you would want to stop on the street for directions.

“Yes. Are you…”

“Papa, yes.” He pulled her close into a hug before holding her at arm’s length, examining her. “You look just like your mother. But my hair I see.” He dropped one hand from her arm to run through her hair.

Hermione wanted to shiver, to recoil, but then she heard Sirius’ voice in her head, telling her that everyone had different motivations for becoming a Death Eater and not all of them were for horrible reasons. “Mum said it was my grandmother’s hair,” Hermione demurred. She knew she was stalling, but Gwilym didn’t seem to mind, after all, this was was the first time he had seen his seventeen-year-old daughter.

“I want to hear all about your life. What classes did you take your OWLs and NEWTs in? What are you doing now that you’ve graduated? What do you do for fun? What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

Hermione laughed despite herself because in some ways he was just like her with his questioning, even if they were in no way related. “Tahitian vanilla. And I dance. I dance ballet.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Right now, nothing. I’m taking some dance classes and getting certified to teach. I eventually want to open a small studio for wizards and witches in Diagon Alley.” It wasn’t something Alexia and Hermione had discussed but Hermione liked to think it would be what the older girl would do if she was well enough.

Gwilym nodded and motioned to a man standing not too far from them. Hermione nearly gasped as Peter Pettigrew came up to her. “Wormtail, this is my daughter, Alexandrina.”

“Alexia,” Hermione offered her hand. Pettigrew kissed it, eyes sparkling with what looked like lust as his eyes roved over her body.

“Enchanted. Your father’s description did not do you justice.”

Hermione wanted to gag. She wanted to mutter an Avada and just get rid of the horrible traitor. But that wouldn’t help get Sirius back, and if the way she was going to get those memories was through seduction, then by Merlin she was going to be seductive! Lowering her eyes, she blushed. “You are much too kind, sir.”

Gwilym laughed, breaking the momentary trance. “As you can see, she is clearly mine and I am safe. I will meet you at sunset to go back to the camp.”  
Pettigrew nodded and walked quickly away before disapparating an appropriate distance away.

“Camp?” Hermione asked, linking an arm with Gwilym’s. “Are you with…”

“Shh, Alexandrina!” He scolded, “Not here. Don’t say his name. This city is suspicious enough. I’ll tell you at lunch.”

“Come, I think there’s a little cafe that used to do the best hot chocolates.” Hermione stuck her hands in her coat pockets and started to lead Gwilym to a spot Alexia had mentioned.

“Chocolate sprinkles?” Gwilym asked with a raised eyebrow. They had two steaming glass mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream, Alexia’s with chocolate sprinkles.

“Yes? I like my chocolate, so what?” She took a sip, licking the whipped cream off of her lip before refocusing on the purpose of this lunch. “So are you going to tell me about this camp?”

“Why are you so interested?” Gwilym fought back with a narrowing of his eyes.

“Because I want to help. And because, maybe, I can be useful.”

“You are a dancer. You are not a fighter.”

“I received top marks at the Bucharest Academy in dueling, Papa. But that’s not the best skill I have.” The waiter set down two sandwiches, interrupting what was gearing up to be a heated conversation. Gwilym took a large bite of his sandwich and Hermione took it as an opportunity to explain her case. “That man that you were with - you saw how he looked at me. That is not nearly the first time I have received that reaction.” It was true - even without hair and a look of constant exhaustion Alexia was a stunner. “I can be a spy - a...what’s the English word...honeypot? I am told I am very persuasive when I need to be. And if it goes south, well, I can defend myself with more than just my wiles.”

Gwilym looked as if he was considering it before he said “No.”

“No, that’s it? No explanation?”

“I will not have my only daughter put herself in harm’s way.”

“Even for a cause she believes in?”

“Even for that, Alexandrina.”

Hermione’s temper flared, her eyes narrowing. Alexia hated being called Alexandrina - she only introduced herself as that because it saved time in people asking if Alexia was short for anything. And Hermione didn’t like that Gwilym was trying to protect her when he had not done so for her entire life so far. “You don’t get to make that call when you knew I existed but did not try for a relationship with me.”

“Your mother asked me not to!”

“If I had a daughter and I knew about her, I would do everything in my power to get to know her. To make sure I was a part of her life. To know that she was loved and wanted.” Hermione’s voice lowered dangerously, “especially if that daughter was a result of such a bad decision as you made.”

Gwilym’s eyes nearly disappeared into his hairline. “She told you?”

“That you got a little rough with her one night when you were both drunk? Yes, she told me,” Hermione said flatly.

“I thought it was best if I stayed away. That I was… atoning… for my sins by staying away.” He reached out a hand to grasp Hermione’s, but she pulled it away before he could reach her.

“That was not your decision to make,” Hermione spit out. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t the argument she was supposed to be having. It wasn’t even an argument she was sure Alexia wanted her to be having, but Hermione felt like she was doing this for Alexia - to get answers on her behalf. “Mum never blamed you for getting her pregnant. She blames herself for that because if she had trusted her gut she would have returned to Bucharest before I was conceived. But she does blame you for not even trying. She expected you to try, even if only for indoctrination purposes.”

And then it was as if the spell holding them in a pattern of anger and accusations lifted. Gwilym gave her a wry smile and chuckled. “Guess it worked out even if I didn’t have that contact. You came to me for the cause, on your own terms. No indoctrination needed.”

Hermione laughed too, despite herself. Her face brightened as she realized he was getting close to letting her into the camp. Maybe this was going to be easier than she thought. “So, do I get to go to the camp?” She lowered her eyes and blushed. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that man - Wormtail you called him? - again.”

Gwilym rolled his eyes. “Do I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid?”

“If you think it would help,” Hermione said with a shrug.

“How many days do you have before you need to return to London?”

“If you could get me an international portkey, two. Otherwise, just tomorrow. And yes, I promise not to do anything stupid.”

Gwilym nodded, pushing some hair out of his eyes. “There’s someone at the camp that’s an expert in them. I bet he can get you to wherever you need to get to in London. We’ll go tonight.” He glanced down at their sandwiches. “But first, let’s eat.”

***  
By all accounts, the rest of lunch and the walk around Timisoara went smoothly enough. Hermione showed Gwilym her old dance study, the park she used to play in, and the best bookstore in town. They agreed to meet near the statue from earlier that morning after dinner - something Hermione had insisted upon. She needed to be in warmer clothing if she was going to the camp and she also wanted a moment to herself before potentially meeting Voldemort. Her Occlumency shields were certainly decent, but this was one occasion she didn’t want to test them.

Dressed in warmer winter clothing with a wool beanie pulled over her head and a second pair of socks on her feet, Hermione strode through the town purposefully, trying to exude confidence that she wasn’t feeling. Sirius’ ring was hidden underneath her sweater, thumping against her chest, almost matching the thumping of her heart. He was the reason she was doing this. She would do anything to get him back.

Gwilym and Pettigrew stood by the statue, heads bowed in quiet conversation. At the sound of her boots, they stopped talking and looked up. Pettigrew spoke first, “Your father said you want to join our cause.” When Hermione confirmed that fact, Peter flushed with pleasure. “We shall be seeing much more of each other in the future, then, Miss Jugson.”

“Alexia, please. If I can call you…”

“Peter.”

“Peter, then.”

Gwilym shook his head in impatience. “We need to get going. There’s a meeting for us later tonight.”

“Will he...will he be there?” Hermione couldn’t keep the slightest of tremors from her voice. Voldemort wasn’t exactly someone she wanted to meet on a December night in Romania.

“No, I am not high enough in Our Lord’s favor to be able to see him directly. I get my orders from others who visit the camp with our missions.” Gwilym said, almost appearing to be uncomfortable with the admission of his stature within the Death Eaters. He pulled his coat closer around him. “Are you ready, daughter?”

Hermione nodded. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please leave feedback in whatever way moves you. :) Thanks always to my ever lovely beta Sharla and artist Jessi.
> 
> Cruplord actually does come from the Romanian version of Harry Potter where Tom Marvolo Riddle's name is Tomas Dorlent Cruplud. Thought it was fitting.


	6. Chapter 6

The camp was a collection of fifteen tents scattered underneath a heavy canopy of bare branches. Most of the men were situated around a fire, chatting idly. Gwilym led her to a tent on the edge of the camp and opened the flap, inviting her in. Just like the campsite at the Quidditch World Cup, the tent was much bigger on the inside than it appeared. A heavy wool blanket was draped over a twin bed, a pile of clothes in the corner, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling all made the home feel cozy and lived in, even if it was obvious a bachelor lived there.

“Bathroom is straight at the back. I’ll take the chair and you can have the bed. I’ll introduce you to a few people tonight. The rest you probably won’t meet until you get initiated.”

Hermione swallowed; she hadn’t thought that far. If she had to prove an initiation and get the Dark Mark, well, that wouldn’t end well. That wasn’t exactly something she could cover up with a glamour like she did her scar from Dolohov. She cursed herself for not having the forethought to think of what she would do if they tried to give her a Dark Mark. As she felt her heart-rate increase, Hermione took a very deep breath. She could do this. She had to do this. It still didn’t stop her from going to the bathroom and throwing up what food was left in her stomach. She washed out her mouth, brushed her teeth and returned to the entrance of the tent. 

“Nervous?” Gwilym asked with a wry smile. 

“Guess you heard that?” Hermione shrugged, “A bit of that, a bit of not being a fan of apparition.” 

“I’ve always found it better than portkey.” He held the tent flap open for her. “Let’s go meet some people.” 

As they approached the men sitting around the fire, Hermione noticed they had stopped talking. Their hands inched closer to their holstered wands and they glared up at her. 

“Who’s this, Jugson?” A man Hermione recognized as having been at the Department of Mysteries less than a year ago. 

“Everyone, this is my daughter, Alexandrina.”

“Alexia,” Hermione automatically corrected. 

A middle-aged woman approached, eyes narrowed. “Jugson never mentioned he had a daughter.”

Hermione glanced at Gwilym before answering. “Papa’s always known about me, but my Mum asked him not to contact me, so we’ve been estranged.”

“Alexandrina wrote me a few months ago, asking if we could start to get to know one another. She wants to join the cause.”

The woman snorted. “You? You look like a prima ballerina and wouldn’t last one minute in a battle.” 

Hermione smirked. “I can hold my own. But battle is not how I intend on helping the man the Romanian’s call Cruplord.”

“What? You’re going to stomp on us with your pointe shoes?” A dark-haired man around her age joked. 

“I am a ballerina, yes. But I always have some other skills.” 

Gwilym sighed. “Alexandrina will prove herself, I have no doubt. If she does not, I’m sure a well-placed _Oblivate_ will do.”  
***  
That night Hermione couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on the small cot, feeling unsure of just about everything. She missed Sirius and her parents the most, but she also missed other things - like feeling comfortable and not constantly on edge, or not worrying about what was going to happen tomorrow, next week, or next month. After what felt like hours, with a huff she got up, pulled on her coat and boots, and went out into the night. 

It was bitterly cold but Hermione only cast a light warming spell. She wanted to let the cold help clear her mind. She walked all through the encampment, weaving through tents before going off into the surrounding woods. As her mind began to calm and clear, she realized just how far she had wandered. Hermione had reached another clearing where a small fire was burning. Sitting beside that fire was a small, squat man. 

“Peter?” Hermione asked quietly, realizing who it was. 

Pettigrew turned, eyes softening when he saw it was Hermione. “Alexia, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Peter.” She sat down on the log next to him, increasing her warming spell since she was no longer moving. “I couldn’t sleep. You?”

“The same.”

“Anything you would like to unburden on me? I can be an excellent listener.” 

Pettigrew sighed. “I shouldn’t. He would like not like you telling me.” 

“Then tell me other things. Tell me about your time at Hogwarts. Tell me about your friends. Tell me...anything.” It was hopefully a way of getting Pettigrew to open up. But Hermione also had another reason for asking such questions. She wanted to know about Sirius and how anyone who called themselves a friend of his could have betrayed him. 

“I hate radishes.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, I don’t like them either.” _And neither does Sirius_. “But that’s not the kind of unburdening I meant. What’s on your mind?”

“I have a sister. She’s… she has the mental maturity of a five-year-old.” Hermione had not been expecting that. Sirius had never been very forthcoming when talking about Peter, but she hadn’t known about a sister. “I don’t talk about her much. It’s not that I’m ashamed of her. But if anyone knew, I would lose all credibility with the other Death Eaters.”

“But he must know. The rumors are he knows everything.” Hermione had to be very careful not to say she knew anything about Voldemort that wouldn’t have been conveyed by rumors. If she lied and said Jugson told her, it wouldn’t track back. 

“Oh, yes, he knows. As do two other Death Eaters - the ones who were sent to recruit me,” Pettigrew admitted, eyes downward. 

“They...blackmailed you?”

“Not to join the Death Eaters, no. That was my decision. But the decision to…” Pettigrew trailed off. 

Hermione placed her hand over his and squeezed. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“So, you are now working out of obligation? You have lost the fervor for the cause?” 

Pettigrew looked up at her, eyes flashing. “The Dark Lord has given me everything. He has taught me everything worth knowing. This is no obligation.” 

Hermione backpedaled. “I would understand if it was. But it is good to hear you’re still on our side.”

“You’ll be joining us?” He looked hopeful and it almost hurt Hermione to lie. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I am.”

***  
The next morning Gwilym shook her awake far too early. “You’ll have your initiation this afternoon and then you will portkey back to London.” 

“Not at night? I thought you guys loved to have secret meetings in the dark.”

“Not when it is this cold. We’ll freeze our balls off and then some. The Dark Lord doesn’t approve of warming charms for initiations.”

“Will he be there?”

“No, a few of his top followers will perform your ritual.”

“I do have one request.”

Gwilym raised an eyebrow. “You are in no position to be demanding anything.”

“If I am to be a seductress, I need to be unmarked. I cannot risk having a glamour slip and expose the Dark Mark.” 

“Glamour wouldn’t help,” Gwilym said quietly. “Our marks cannot be glamoured. But yes, you will not be marked. None of our seductresses are.” He pulled a ring out of his pocket. “Instead, this will be your way of being summoned.” It was a simple thick tungsten band. “Place it on your thumb. It will warm when you are to appear.”

“And if I am…” Hermione cast her eyes downward, “in the act?”

Gwilym huffed. “Then finish as quickly as possible and get yourself to the meeting.” He shook his head muttering something about not wanting to imagine his daughter _in the act_ with anyone. It made Hermione smile. Gwilym had taken to being a parent quite quickly it seemed. _Like a squirrel to climbing_ , she thought. 

Her initiation was painless enough, nothing like what she had expected. She had to fight off _Imperio_ , show her dueling skills, and answer a battery of questions about her loyalty. Hermione had thought they might have required an Unbreakable Vow but on deeper reflection, she realized that couldn’t have been the case. If everyone had performed a Vow during the First War then Lucius Malfoy among others would be dead. Severus Snape wouldn’t be able to be a spy as Dumbledore vowed he was. No, it wasn’t going to be a Vow. 

“We’ll send you a mission in a few months. Right now we’ve pretty much got the Ministry covered so there aren’t a lot of targets in London.” A man who looked remarkably like Vincent Crabbe remarked. 

“Crabbe!” Gwilym hissed. “She didn’t need to know that.”

Crabbe shrugged and walked away with the rest of the Death Eaters leaving her alone with Pettigrew and Gwilym. 

“Your portkey will be ready in about ten minutes, Alexandrina,” Gwilym pointed to a tin cup lying near where the circle of men and women had just been. 

“Of course, Papa.” She noticed Peter loitering and she knew she needed to take a chance. “Can you give me a few minutes?” Gwilym nodded and moved just out of earshot, though Hermione cast the Muffliato charm just in case. 

“Thank you for sitting with me last night,” Peter began, the tips of his ears flushing pink. 

“We were two lonely people that apparently needed one another,” Hermione said simply. “I’m glad you were able to get some comfort. You certainly made me feel at ease.” She motioned behind her to the tents. “It seems like they’re a distrusting lot, so it’s nice to see a handsome man believe me as more than just a pretty face.” 

Peter truly flushed at that statement. “You are a pretty face… I mean,” he stumbled trying to correct himself. “I mean to say you are beautiful but you did prove yourself with your dueling skills. I’m headed to give the Dark Lord a report tonight. I will speak highly of you to him.”

“I thank you for that.” Hermione reached out her hand, grasping Peter’s in her own. It was not rough as she expected, but smooth, almost devoid of hair - a boy’s hand. “May I write to you, Peter?”

“I may not be able to answer very often because of missions, but yes. I would like that.” He smiled and for a moment Hermione almost could see some truth in the lies she was spinning. He could be handsome when he smiled. He didn’t have the aristocratic elegance of Sirius, but he had a sort of boyish charm, especially when he was smiling at her. “Be safe, Alexia, please?”

The corner of one side of Hermione’s mouth upturned in a wry smile. “I can’t promise that Peter. None of us can. But for you, I’ll do my best.” She kissed Peter’s hand before dropping it and returning to her “father.”

“When will I see you again? Will you be able to answer letters? Peter says his will be few and far between.” 

“I’ll see you this summer. I will need to check on our estate in Aberystwyth then, but I can stop by London to see you,” He paused, looking down briefly. “I am proud of you, Alexia. You have done the right thing in joining the cause.”

Hermione blushed slightly. “I’m glad I’m getting to know you. I could meet you in Aber...Aberystwyth if you’d like?” 

Gwilym gave her a hint of a smile, “I’d like that. Now you better get ready for your portkey.” He hugged her gently before holding her at arm's’ length, just as he did when they first met. “It is good to meet you, Alexia.”

“You too, Papa.” And with that, she took her position next to the tin cup, touching it briefly before feeling the familiar jerk behind her navel transporting her back to London.  
***  
Back at Hogwarts that night Hermione found Harry. “Can we talk? Room of Requirements after rounds?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?” Harry looked concerned. “Remus said you weren’t at Grimmauld Place over the break.” 

“I…” Hermione shook her head. “It’s a long story and I’d prefer if we were in a more comfortable place without prying ears.”

“Gotcha. I’ll meet you there.”

When Harry entered the Room of Requirements he didn’t see Hermione. All he saw was a forest and leaves covering the ground. “Uh, Hermione?”

A squirrel with an extremely bushy tail appeared, hopping from limb to limb before running down a tree. The squirrel transformed into Hermione. “Sorry. I can get it to transform into something a little more ‘human-friendly,’ than this.”

Harry stood open-mouthed for a moment, eyes wide before he recovered and said, “Your form - I’ve never seen it before. It’s beautiful.” 

Hermione beamed, “Thanks! Sirius called...calls… her Rocky.” She closed her eyes and the room transformed to Sirius’ library with a complete tea set. “There, that should be more comfortable to you.”

“The library at Grimmauld Place?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Man, Hermione, you’ve got it bad.”

She shrugged. “I asked the Room for something calming, comforting, with couches. I guess it reached into my memories to find this.” She flopped down onto a couch, setting herself up with a cup of tea with just a hint of milk in it. 

“So what’s up?” Harry sat a couch opposite from her, fixing his own tea (with far too much sugar in Hermione’s opinion). “Clearly it’s something serious because you brought out the tea.”

“We’re British, Harry, it’s what we do,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Remus was right - I was not at Grimmauld Place for the holidays. I was in Romania. Timisoara to be more precise.”

“The house Sirius left us? I know the holidays have got to be hard on you Hermione, but you didn’t tell anyone where you were going and you didn’t even come for Christmas dinner.”

“I did answer your owls, though. And Tribbie knew where I was. As much as I complain about house elves, they can be dead useful sometimes.”

“Tribbie?”

“Sirius’ house elf at the house in Timisoara. She’s been instructed to do whatever you or I command. She’s also been keyed to my magic so if I’m ever in need she can come to my aid.”

“How did Dobby… we were never keyed, as you called it,” Harry asked, momentarily distracted. 

Hermione waved a dismissive hand, “Dobby is an extraordinary elf. But that’s getting away from the story.”

“Right, so you were in Romania. Why Romania?”

“Have I told you about my friend Alexia?”

“Yeah, the one in St. Mungo’s that you met with a bunch this summer - the one who has cancer?”

Hermione nodded, taking another sip. “Her Dad’s a Death Eater - and before you get all hot and bothered, they are estranged. Or well, they were estranged. Or they still are because of me pretending to be her?” Hermione rambled on, “I’m really not sure what verb tense to use there.”

“Hermione, slow down. You’re not making any sense. So Alexia’s father is a Death Eater. I’ve got that. Now start over and tell me again.” Hermione had to applaud Harry - he was being calm throughout this all. Had someone slipped him a calming draught? Because usually, he was much more prone to flying off the handle, especially when Death Eaters were mentioned. Maybe the tea was helping. Maybe he just hadn’t had enough when dealing with difficult things and so he never got to truly experience its calming abilities? Her mind was getting away from her. 

“With the spell to bring Sirius back, I need Pettigrew’s memories of the Fidelius charm and the explosion that caused them to blame Sirius. I can’t exactly waltz up to Pettigrew and demand his memories, now can I?” Hermione huffed, shaking her head to clear the irritation before continuing. “I was talking to Alexia about it and she reminded me that her father who has never met her, is a Death Eater. She suggested I go as her. I mean, I would have to use some pretty strong glamours, but since Gwilym doesn’t know anything about her other than her name and her birthday, I could be anybody.”

“Wait, you were going to impersonate someone else so you could get Pettigrew’s memories? And how, exactly, were you going to find Pettigrew?”

“I was going to pretend Alexia wanted to join the family business. And…”

“Waltz right into a Death Eater camp?” Harry asked, standing up, hands on his hips, eyebrow raised. “Are you out of YOUR BLOODY MIND?” He exploded. Ah, there was the Harry Hermione knew and loved. “What if the glamours fell? What if you were detected? What if they wanted you to take the Mark? What if they...Hermione, you could have been killed!” He was yelling at the top of his lungs now and all Hermione could do was roll her eyes. 

“You don’t think I didn’t think of every single way this could go wrong? Alexia and I spent every day this summer planning. We practiced my glamours until I knew they would hold no matter what. I showed her every letter Gwilym sent and we crafted responses together. This was the safest way.”

Harry deflated a bit. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I just…”

“Can’t lose anyone else. I get it, Harry, I really, unfortunately, do.” Hermione sighed. “Can you let me tell the rest of the story without exploding?”

“I can try.” 

“Have some more tea. It’s going to be awhile.” She waited until Harry had another cup and had settled back on the couch before she continued. “Gwilym Jugson accepted me pretty quickly. It surprised me, but I guess he was just really happy to have a daughter that wanted to join ‘the cause.’” She stood up, feeling like pacing. “Pettigrew was there initially to make sure I was who I said I was. Gwilym and Alexia ‘caught up.’ and then we went to the Death Eater camp. It wasn’t actually the main camp. It was just a bunch of lower-tier Death Eaters. Gwilym and I agreed I would become a honey trap - a seducer,” she explained when Harry gave her a quizzical expression, “for the Death Eaters. That was my idea. It was a way to get involved without truly getting involved. And I wouldn’t be marked - it’s too obvious and risky that my client might notice.” 

Hermione took the ring off of her thumb and handed it to Harry. “It’s charmed to burn when I am being summoned.” Her whole body felt lighter without the ring on. Even though she had done diagnostic spells on it to make sure it wasn’t going to harm her and it had come back clean, it still was a heavy weight on her. “So I guess I’m a Death Eater? But that’s not the worst thing.”

Harry scoffed. “Really? Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio is now a Death Eater and that’s not our biggest problem?”

“I really hate that moniker.”

“Me too,” Harry said with a smile. “So what else?”

“So I found out why Pettigrew betrayed your parents and Sirius. Joining the Death Eaters was his choice. But the betrayal...he has a disabled sister that some people found out about. Voldemort threatened to harm her, from what I could tell if he didn’t bring him the Potters.”

“That bloody rat!” Harry hissed. 

“Yeah, I know. But he’s got a crush on Alexia so I guess that’s working in my favor. We’re going to be writing letters for a while until I can see him again. Get him to trust me - that kind of thing. With any luck, he won’t see that I’m using him.”

“So our worst problem is that Pettigrew has a crush on a girl young enough to be his daughter and that person happens to be you in disguise? Yep, I can see that. Definitely our worst problem.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear Peter,_  
I haven’t heard anything from my father but I imagine everyone is busy. It’s been cold here - not nearly as bitterly cold as it was that night in Romania. I still think back to that night we sat, talking under the stars with the blazing fire as some of the only warmth. You were open in a way I wasn’t expecting and it was refreshing to see such honesty. I’m used to people lying to me all the damn time. My mother lied to me about my father. My teachers lied to me about my chances of getting into a good dance company. My aunt lied that my cousin Luca and I would always have each other. It’s nauseating. So there you were a breath of fresh air. It’s made me want to get to know you more - the real you.  
I know, of course, there are things you aren’t going to be able to tell me. There are things I shouldn’t know in case I’m compromised, I suppose. But I want to get to know the man who didn’t lie to me when he had every reason to. I want to get to know you, Peter. And I hope that you want to get to know me too.  
My father has probably told you a little about me, but I am a ballerina by trade. Yes, I passed my OWLs and my NEWTs (or at least, the Romanian equivalent). But I’ve always been a dancer. Mum used to tease me that she knew I was going to be a dancer right from the start because I was always dancing in her belly, flipping, turning, and keeping her up at night. It was either dance or gymnastics. But throwing myself into the air just seems scary. So ballet it was.  
Now, I’m in London, looking for a space to rent in Diagon Alley to start a wizarding dance studio. There are not nearly enough arts in the wizarding world, Peter. People become shopkeepers and healers and Aurors and Ministry folk. Witches and wizards have Gobstone clubs and chess clubs and dueling clubs and all of those are great. But they don’t exercise your mind like the arts can.  
Sure, knowing how to brew a hangover cure or degnome a garden or any of those useful practical things are all well and good. But enriching your mind with the arts? That exercises the part of your brain that keeps you on your toes - for me literally. I know, it’s hard to imagine a bunch of big, bad Death Eaters getting up _en pointe_ but there’s other ways to be involved in the arts. Painting, creative writing, acting...you all could be very, very effective liars if you took up drama. Not, I’m sure, that you don’t have enough drama in your life. But I feel so alive dancing. I hope I can dance for you sometime.  
Anyway, I’ve prattled on my soapbox long enough. I hope you’re doing well and keeping yourself safe. I would hate for anything to happen to you.  
_Alexia_

_Dear Alexia,_  
It is nice to hear from you, just as it was nice to sit with you that night. It hasn’t been quiet here, although you know I can’t tell you about that. It has, however, been less cold. It seems like spring is coming early to Romania. I don’t have much time to write, I’m sorry. But talk about dance all you want; it is obvious you love it. I’ll write more next time.  
_Peter_

_Dear Peter,_  
I know you probably won’t be able to respond. After the attack on Hogwarts, I imagine you’re fairly busy. I’m surprised that I haven’t been contacted yet. I do really want to help. I’ve found a studio space but until I get guaranteed clients I can’t afford it so I’m sitting around in my minuscule flat (studio - not even one bedroom) in the dark and eating sandwiches because I really can’t afford much else. Diagon Alley isn’t cheap, Peter. Hogsmeade is even worse. I’m thinking I may have to move to a different city. Yes, the wizarding world in Britain is concentrated in London but as long as I have a floo connection I could be anywhere. My father mentioned he has a home in Aberystwyth. I might like Wales. Lots of sheep. But I looked it up - it’s on the coast and I do love a good beach and the sound of waves hitting it.  
Once again, I’ve rambled on. How are you? I won’t ask if you were involved in the attack (secrets and sects and all that), but I hope you aren’t hurt. I really do like getting letters from you, Peter. They’re the best part of the month when they arrive. If you need a break from everything, tell me a bit more about yourself. What was it like going to Hogwarts? I got my letter but Mum wanted me to stay close to her so I never got to go.  
Stay safe. I wouldn’t want that handsome face of your’s getting marred by any stray hexes or curses.  
_Alexia_

_Dear Alexia,_  
It has certainly been busy, yes. You probably won’t be contacted, to be honest. I think we’re past the point of relationships for information and now just milking the sources we have. That being said, of course, keep your ears and eyes open for anything you may hear. The Dark Lord is confident we will triumph in the battles to come, but we still could use any information you come across.  
I am safe and I wasn’t harmed. It is kind of you to worry about me like that. The last time someone cared about me like that… well, it was a long time ago. I do not mind my missions or that I am a tool for He to use as He wishes, but I am also a man with flesh and blood needs.  
As for about me, well, I’m fairly simple. I went to Hogwarts, yes. I had three good friends growing up there. Or at least, I thought they were my best friends. But we grew up and grew apart. They included me as an afterthought. And even though I was smart - smarter than them in some classes - I never measured up. I think they took pity on me. So I started hanging out with some other people secretly (they were in a different, rival House) and they valued me for my intelligence and what I could do with my wand. And so when they asked me to join the Dark Lord, I said yes. Why wouldn’t I? They treated me like a fully realized person from the onset of our friendship. And even before that, if I’m honest. While this other House loved to pick on my three friends, they seemed to leave me alone. I like to think it was because they were scared of what I could do.  
And now, look at me. I’m one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle and I have a beautiful woman writing me letters. Maybe it did end up all for the best. I’m looking forward to seeing you - whenever that is.  
_Peter_  
***  
_Dear Rocky,_  
I know it’s probably not safe for me to be writing you this, but I had to let you know. I don’t have much longer. The Healers say I maybe have a week or two before I slip into a coma and then die. I want to help. I’ll explain when you come and pick me up. Come tonight to St. Mungo’s, as Alexandrina, and let’s blow this joint.  
_The Ballerina_

Hermione read the note over and over again. Alexia’s handwriting was terrible - that was the reasoning Hermione gave herself for reading the note for the millionth time. 

“Hermione, what is it?” Harry asked carefully, wondering what the mysterious letter could possibly say. None of them had had much if any, contact with anyone in quite some time so when an owl just showed up, all three of them were suspicious.

“Alexia - she’s dying. She wants to… she doesn’t say...but I need to…” Hermione gestured at the letter unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“Then go,” Ron said firmly. “Meet us at Hogwarts when you get done.” 

“But you guys…”

“Go, Hermione. Alexia needs you,” Harry echoed. “Just get back to us in one piece, okay?”

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes as she performed the glamours. She grew a few inches, her waist shrunk, her legs thickened, and her wild brown hair turned to sleek glossy black waves. Making sure everything, including the accent change charm, was in place, she apparated to just outside St. Mungo’s. She signed in as Luca Vlaicu, Alexia’s cousin, and made her way to the Fourth Floor. Even though Alexia’s disease wasn’t the result of spell damage, she was in the long-term care wing. Something about it being easier for the Healers, Alexia had said during one of her visits. 

“Hey, Lexi,” Hermione said as calmly as she could when she entered Alexia’s room. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw in front of her. 

Hermione had seen people dying of cancer before - her granddad had had bone cancer when she was a young child and she remembered seeing him in the hospital, pale and gaunt, before his last days. She supposed her subconscious had blocked out the truly horrific sight it was. But there was no denying just how sick Alexia looked. It had been almost a year since Hermione had seen her and while back then Alexia had looked permanently tired she now looked deathly ill - all shadows and bones. 

“Hermione,” Alexia struggled to sit up but smiled nonetheless. “You came.”

“You asked; I came.” Hermione walked up to Alexia, offering her a hand. “So what’s the plan?” 

“I’m going to get myself caught. Wherever I end up, Pettigrew is sure to be, right? And I can get the memories,” Alexia said breathlessly. 

“That’s not exactly a guarantee, Alexia,” Hermione began carefully. 

“But it’s the best plan. And since I’m going to die anyway, I might as well be some use.”

“You can’t do magic. How are you going to get the memories? And how would you get them to me?” 

“You ask your house elf - Tribbie was her name - to retrieve them from me. From the letters you’ve shown me, Peter will give up the memories easily.” 

Hermione closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Alexia,” she opened her eyes to concentrate on the slip of a woman in front of her. “This is incredibly risky. And you look like you can barely stand, let alone survive any sort of rough-handling that will most likely happen on your way to wherever Peter is.” 

“Do you have a better plan?” Alexia leveled. 

Hermione sat down next to Alexia, her hand running over the heavy tungsten ring on her thumb. They sat in silence as Hermione tried to formulate a plan. And then, it came to her. 

“You go to Malfoy Manor. I can set you up with a Portkey for just outside the gates. This ring,” she handed over the thumb ring, “should grant you access. Now you just have to pretend to be me being you.” She rifled through her beaded bag and pulled out a few potions. “These will make you look more alive and give you the strength to get through at least the week. I’ll send Tribbie for you and the memories in one week, okay?” 

Alexia shook her head, “No. Send Tribbie for the memories, but not for me. I am not worth the risk.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “When this is all over, tell my mother I’ve died, okay?” 

“Alexia!”

“Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” Alexia smirked. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t trying to be so noble!”

“Let me do this. Let me go out with a fight. I used to be a prima ballerina and now I’m not fucking nothing, Rocky.” She downed the potions in a few gulps and sat fully up. “Let’s go.”

With some of her strength restored Alexia was able to walk out of St. Mungo’s with Hermione. Alexia didn’t ask how Hermione knew where Malfoy Manor was - she figured someone must have mentioned it in passing. And with the portkey ready to activate whenever Alexia touched it, they said their goodbyes. It would be the last time Hermione would see her alive.

***  
“Who goes there?” A man asked at the gate to Malfoy Manor. 

“Alexia Jugson, I have this ring as proof of my allegiance to our Dark Lord.” She handed her ring through the bars of the elaborate ironwork. 

“Wait here,” the guard ordered. 

“Not like I have anywhere else to be,” Alexia called out cheekily. The potions had continued to do their work and though Alexia was sure she still looked like death, she at least didn’t feel like it. 

When the guard returned, he led Alexia wordlessly through the gate, past the ridiculous peacocks, and into the manor. As she had hoped, Pettigrew was there to greet her. “Alexia, what are you doing here?” He asked before he truly saw her. 

“I’m dying, Peter,” Alexia said, lowering her hood revealing her bald head, shining in the torchlight. 

“Alexia?” Peter questioned. “What happened to your hair?”

“Can we go sit? I’m really quite tired.” 

Peter nodded dumbfounded and led her away from the foyer and to a small bedroom that must have been his. Once she was seated on the bed and him in a chair, she began. “I caught an illness - the Healers haven’t been able to cure it or even really figure out what it is. They say I don’t have long. But I had to see you.”

“How did you know where I would be?”

Alexia wasn’t exactly sure how magic worked but she decided to make something up that sounded somewhat plausible. “The ring has given me strange dreams. Dreams of peacocks and a great white manor. I apparated to that place in my dreams. And here I am.” 

“And you’re dying?” Peter repeated. 

“Yes.” The repetitiveness of the conversation was wearing on Alexia’s already thin patience. She had never been a patient person, always wanting to rush from one thing to another. When she started dancing she had wanted to race through all the exercises just so she could advance. And then when she got to dance en pointe she would impatiently push towards the next thing. Some of it was hating to sit still, but it was also a restlessness and impatience with life. It was as if something was telling her she wouldn’t live as long as her mother imagined and she had to squeeze every inch of life out of her life while she could. It seemed apt, now, that she had that feel and had fully embraced life before she was to die.

“And you just had to come see me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Alexia asked with the smallest of laughs. 

“But... _why_? Why did you need to see me?” Peter sounded so confused. And for a moment, Alexia almost felt sorry for him. It was obvious his self-esteem was so low that he could not imagine a woman such as herself ever caring for him. And of course, that was the truth since Alexia couldn’t care less for the rat, but he didn’t know that. For all he knew, Alexia could be head over heels in love with him. 

“I’m in love with you, Peter. But I heard some stories swirling around London and before I told you, and now before I die, I had to know the truth.” 

“You...you love me?” Peter stuttered.

Alexia smiled, despite herself. “Yes, I do, Peter. I wish I could spend a thousand lifetimes with you. I’ve said it before - you’ve been honest with me in a way no one else has.” She leaned forward - it was a small enough room that she could just brush her hand against Pettigrew’s knee if she reached. “So don’t lie to me now.”

“What do you need to know, my love?” Peter asked, using a term of endearment that just made Alexia close her eyes to hide her reaction before reopening them to meet his eyes and ask the question. 

“Those friends - the ones that never treated you as they should - did you betray them?”

“I...what did you hear?” He was backpedaling - that much was obvious. What he was trying to hide, that was less clear. 

“It doesn’t matter what I’ve heard, Peter. It matters what you tell and what you did.” She shut her eyes again in anticipation and also exhaustion.

“Yes. I betrayed Lily and James Potter and framed Sirius Black.”

Alexia’s eyes flew open. That was easier than she had expected. “Give me the memories - to prove it.”

“Why would I lie to you?” 

“Because everyone else has,” Alexia said sadly. She was exhausted and even though she was acting, the truth was, many had lied to her in her past. Hermione had not been making that up. She held a vial out to Peter. “Please, Peter, be the one who doesn’t.”  
***  
“Tribbie?” Hermione called a day after she had left Alexia to go to Malfoy Manor. 

With a pop, the elf appeared. “Yes, Mistress Hermione?”

“I need you to retrieve someone and her vials for me.” Hermione explained where Alexia was and that the vials had been charmed to include Hermione’s magical signature (only understood by the elves) so that Tribbie could find them. 

“Anything for Mistress.” 

After what felt like days but was in reality only an hour or two, Tribbie appeared, vials tucked into her gown. “I am sorry, Mistress. I…” The elf burst into tears. 

Hermione’s stomach plummeted. “She’s gone,” tears filled her eyes. “Alexia’s gone, isn’t she?”

“Yes Mistress,” Tribbie rung her hands repeatedly, floppy ears down in sadness and shame. Her little hand offered the vials of memories to Hermione who took them. “Mistress, Tribbie tried.” 

“I know Tribbie. You are forbidden from punishing yourself. Please go back to the house. I’ll collect you as soon as I can.” The house elf nodded solemnly before disappearing. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” He moved towards her to hug her but she shrugged away.

All Hermione could do was nod before collapsing and letting her tears soak the ground.  
***  
Hermione surveyed the dismal site in front of her. It was over. They had won. But as the bodies were levitated to the Great Hall, Hermione couldn’t help but feel that they had lost. The Weasley family followed Fred’s body. Remus and Tonks followed Andromeda’s body. Lavender Brown’s little sister followed Lavender’s body. There was a line of families following levitating corpses and it made Hermione want to throw up. Indeed, she did. 

Harry came up behind her, face grim. “Let’s go, Hermione. It’s over.” 

“At what cost?” She didn’t want to cry. She knew there was going to be a lot of crying in the next couple of months. She didn’t want to start now.

He pulled her into a hug. “Come on. We’ll go to the Ministry tomorrow if you want.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, let’s wait a week. I need to practice the spell. And I’m sure there’s…” she choked on her words, pointing to the parade of bodies. “Things we can do here.”  
***  
A week after the Final Battle just as the funerals had started, Hermione found herself frustrated. She had written her plan out and had practiced the spell until she was sure she had it down, but she needed access to the Ministry to do anything to bring Sirius back. Although Hogwarts had been near completely decimated by the Battle, the Ministry had not. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named Minister of Magic but he had yet to start work in his office. 

“I sent an owl to Kingsley. He said he’ll be in his office his morning,” Remus said one morning at Grimmauld. 

“What?” Hermione asked, looking up from her tea and book. 

“If you slam one more door or cabinet I am pretty sure we are going to need to replace them all. So go, get Sirius back.” 

Hermione grinned. She jumped up, hugging Remus. “Thank you!” She ran off to get dressed and gather her notes. Once at the Ministry, she headed straight for the Minister’s office.

“Are you sure,” Kingsley asked her, looking over the plan she had put to parchment in front of him. “What if it doesn’t work?”

The war-weary woman nodded. “I’m sure. If it doesn’t work, I’m not any worse off. But if it does… I’ll get my best friend back.” Hermione admitted, pushing her hair out of her eyes. 

“In more ways than one, I imagine.” Kingsley pulled a fresh piece of parchment off a pile on his desk and wrote a note on it. “This will give you access to the Department of Mysteries without question. Try not to bother the Unspeakables if you can. They’re not used to your kind of pestering,” he teased. 

Hermione gave the smallest of smiles. “Of course, Minister.”

Once she was out of his office her hand instantly pushed aside her navy trench coat to her hip flask. The blue anti-anxiety potion was always with her now. War did have a way of toying with one’s mind, returning the clock pieces just a little bent. So when a trigger happened, it was as if the whole world stopped and she was left with a horrible clicking sensation of something trying to return to a normal that would never again exist. And it seemed like everything triggered her. After an embarrassing panic attack in Diagon Alley at the reopening of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, she kept the potion in a hip flask. The apothecarist had been sympathetic but warned her that it could easily become addicting. 

Hermione shook her head. No, she needed to be totally clear-headed for this. It wasn’t terribly dangerous, but it did require finesse and concentration. She made her way to the Department of Mysteries, giving her note to the Head Unspeakable. Once she was in front of the Veil, Hermione took off her flask and her coat, revealing jeans, heeled boots, and a green blouse. _You can’t do this_ , the voices began. _Even if you can, what’s to say he’ll want anything to do with you?_

“Shut up,” she growled to the voices, fingering the heavy platinum ring with a black diamond stone on a chain around her neck. She placed the memory vial in front of her carefully - she wouldn’t need to uncork it until later in the spell. So she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, raised her wand, and began the incantation. 

Hermione didn’t remember much of the spell casting - she had practiced it so many times that she was almost in a trace, muscle memory doing its job. After several minutes, but what had felt like an eternity, Hermione uncorked Peter Pettigrew’s memories and sat back on her heels. Pettigrew’s memories swirled in the room and Hermione found herself immersed in them as if she was in one giant pensieve. 

It was a Death Eater meeting at some manor house - the Lestranges if the family crest on the wall was anything to go by. Hermione turned around the room, observing who was there. It looked to be only a few of the key Death Eaters in every day (but still high-end) robes. Lucius Malfoy was reporting to a man not quite as inhuman as the Voldemort they had just defeated, but while his body may have been human, his blood-red eyes were enough to show he wasn’t exactly whole. Bellatrix and her husband were standing against the wall, looking as if they were ready to jump in at a moment’s notice for anything they needed. A house elf fluttered about nervously, refilling wine glasses and placing more tea sandwiches on trays.

“My Lord, we have been unsuccessful in extracting the whereabouts of the Potters. It seems they have gone into hiding under a Fidelius charm.”

“Sirius Black is their secret keeper, I presume?” Voldemort asked. 

“Presumably. It would be the obvious choice.” 

Hermione searched, and found Pettigrew in the back of the room, avoiding eye contact. But he did speak, “Are you sure, My Lord, that it is the Potter child? The Longbottoms also have a child born in July.”

Voldemort raised a pencil-thin eyebrow at Peter and Bellatrix was quick to respond for him, “Are you questioning the Dark Lord?”

“No, no My Lord. Of course not, My Lord. Only that would it not be best to take…” he gulped, “both families out so as to prevent any chance it is the other?”

Voldemort templed his fingers, thinking for a moment before responding. “Yes, Wormtail does have a point. You,” he indicated Peter, “were friends with Black and the Potters at Hogwarts, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You will be the one to bring me the information on the Potter’s whereabouts.” The unspoken _or else_ hung in the air. 

The scene shifted to a back alley somewhere, Knockturn Alley if Hermione had to guess. Fenrir Greyback and Lucius Malfoy apparated behind Peter with a pop. Peter jumped, swallowing nervously. He knew what they were there for - or at least, he could assume. Lucius and Fenrir were looming over Peter. “We know you are the Potter’s Secret Keeper. So, either you go and inform Our Lord that you have been able to ascertain the location of the Potter safe house, or I let Fenrir know where to find your dear little sister.” 

Peter gulped audibly. “They were my best friends growing up…”

Lucius shrugged. “And yet they never treated you the way they should, with the respect you deserve. Now you serve a higher cause.”

“Although, I wouldn’t mind meeting your sister, Charlotte, was it? The innocent always taste the sweetest,” Fenrir leered at Peter. “I might just see if I can find her…”

“Okay. Alright. I’ll tell him.” 

Lucius nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

The scene shifted once more - this time to a crowded Muggle street in London. Hermione knew what this scene was showing instantly. It was the night Sirius was to be innocently sent to Azkaban. It wasn’t raining as Hermione had always pictured it. Instead, the street was filled with people in costume as they streamed out of bars and pubs alike, celebrating in the frivolity of Halloween. 

“What have you done, Peter?” Sirius screamed. 

“What have **I** done, Sirius? You **betrayed** the Potters. My best friends! James and Lily are dead because of you!” 

“You little…” There was an explosion and Hermione saw a small brown rat freshly bleeding running out of the carnage. The scene followed him for a few blocks before Peter transformed. Hiding in the shadows, clutching his hand, he began to cry. 

Hermione was then brought back to the present as the memory finished finding its way to the Veil. Now was the moment of truth. She kept her eyes open, breath held in anticipation. 

A young man with scruff and short wavy black hair walked out. He looked at his unblemished arms and hands with awe. But then he looked up and his eyes met hers. “Hermione?” he asked quietly, though the name seemed to echo in the vast chamber. 

“Hi,” she paused, unsure, “Sirius.” The man in front of her resembled Sirius - the same hair, the same grey eyes - but he was different. No Azkaban tattoos, no haggard, haunted look, and he looked at least a decade younger. That was certainly a surprise - nobody had mentioned the deaging in her research. But, then again, nobody had actually attempted the spell on someone who had disappeared through the Veil.

Sirius’s face broke out into a huge smile. “You did it!”

Hermione nearly collapsed in happiness. Instead, she threw herself into his arms. “I did!” she said with a laugh. 

He spun her around, letting her feet fly out behind her. “I love you, Hermione,” Sirius said into her hair. “You saved me.”


	8. Chapter 8

After several minutes of hugging and then giving Sirius time to reacquaint himself with being in the land of the living, minutes in which Hermione could not stop grinning, she spoke. “Before we go and see Harry or Remus, you need to know what’s happened.” 

“Is it over? Did we win?”

“Yes, it’s over. The Final Battle was at Hogwarts about a week ago. And yes, we won. Harry was brilliant, Sirius. You would have been so proud of him. Of course, he gave us all a good scare when he let himself be killed to kill the Horcrux inside of him but he’s fine now.” The smile was gone from her face, replaced by a grim realism. 

Sirius sat down on the steps of the dais. “But we lost some people. Who did we lose? Please, not Remus.”

“No, not Remus. He and Tonks and their little boy, Teddy are fine. Although, Tonks did get a nasty slicing hex to her arm that was touch and go for a bit.” Hermione shook her head, thinking of all the blood and Madam Pomfrey’s questioning if the arm would have to be amputated. It was pure luck and pluck and a large amount of Dittany that saved the arm. “Andromeda, though, she died. Ted’s still around - he was watching Teddy.”

“Teddy? Wait...Remus and Tonks...got married? Had a kid?” 

“A little boy named Theodore or Teddy for short. He looks so much like Remus although he’s clearly inherited Tonks’ metamorphic abilities. Harry’s his godfather.” Hermione smiled briefly before moving onto the next casualty. “We lost Moody at the beginning of the summer. Fred Weasley was another from the Final Battle. Pettigrew’s dead. Choked by the silver hand Voldemort gave him for daring to think about allowing Harry to live.” 

“That bastard,” Sirius muttered, running his hands through his shorter hair. 

“Alexia died too,” She sniffed. “But she’s the reason I was able to get you back. It’s a spell about those who are innocently convicted. I needed the memories of the person who actually committed the crime to bring you back. I impersonated Alexia, became a Death Eater actually, for a hot minute,” she let out a chattery laugh at the way Sirius’ eyes roamed her arms, looking for the Dark Mark. “Seductress. They didn’t mark me, just gave me a ring so I could be summoned. Peter took a liking to Alexia - or well, my version of Alexia. We wrote letters back and forth for awhile. Stroked his ego, that kind of thing. Alexia went in as herself then, maybe a week before she was going to die from cancer anyway, and got the memories. Tribbie retrieved them for me.” 

Hermione had told herself she wasn’t going to cry but then she found Sirius in front of her, a delicate finger brushing away a tear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Hermione.”

She threw her arms around him, sniffling into his shoulder. “You’re here now. And that counts for everything.”   
***  
Grimmauld Place was crowded. Harry had moved back in, along with Ginny who couldn’t stand her mother’s grief. Remus, Tonks, and Teddy had temporarily moved in since Tonk’s flat hadn’t been baby-proofed in the rush and haze of war. Hermione hadn’t exactly moved in - she just hadn’t left. That afternoon was to be Fred’s funeral so Hermione had expected it to be at least somewhat quiet. She had expected everyone to be at the Burrow. 

Needless to say, that was not the case when she walked in with Sirius and was greeted with a screaming Teddy and Ginny yelling to Harry that he better get his arse down there to help her with her dress. 

“Sirius!” Ginny gaped. “Harry, Remus, Tonks, come here!” She called up to the various inhabitants. 

“What is it, Gin...Sirius?” Remus stood dumbfounded before Sirius embraced Moony in a crushing hug. 

“Hiya Moony.” Sirius pulled back to arm’s length and grinned. “You look like shit.”

“Not all of us can sleep through a war, Padfoot. Why do you look like you’re twenty again?”

Sirius stepped away from Remus and looked at Hermione to provide an answer. “Unexpected side effect of the spell. Turns out it also reverts one back to the age in which you were falsely accused.” 

Tonks with Teddy on her hip came down the stairs next with Harry following closely behind. “What’s all the racket about Ginny?”

Ginny just grinned and pointed to the now-youngest Marauder. “Sirius is back.” 

Sirius and Hermione laughed as both Tonks and Harry had the same reaction - open-mouth wonder. Only Teddy seemed unphased. “Hey Tonks, Harry,” He tickled Teddy’s chin, “And you must be Teddy, my cousin!”

“Padfoot, we would have named you godfather if we had…” Remus tried to explain. 

“Oh, it’s fine Moony. Taking care of this pup,” he ruffled Harry’s hair, “is work plenty enough.” 

Ginny checked her watch, “We need to get going. Mum is going to be going insane as it is without us being late. Harry, dear, can you finish the last couple of buttons?”

“What’s…”

“It’s Fred’s funeral here in a bit, Sirius,” Hermione explained quietly. “Your suit and dress robes are still in your closet, though towards the back since I moved in if you want to change quickly and come with.”

“We’ll be there shortly, Ginny. I’m going to take a shower, change, maybe eat something. I haven’t in…” Sirius realized he didn’t know how long he had been gone. 

“You’ve been gone two years, Sirius,” Ginny began softly. “But don’t worry about eating - Mum has been cooking practically non-stop since the Battle. We get at least three owls a day with food.”

“I’ll sit in the back and come late,” Sirius decided. “I can pop away before anyone notices. A funeral is not exactly the time for me to be announcing I’m back.” 

Hermione’s eyes softened at the sensitivity Sirius was showing. Was this a side effect from being in the Veil? Hermione was definitely interested in finding out. “Go ahead, guys. I’ll be along shortly.” She nodded to the group. 

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry whispered to her as he pulled her into a hug before they all left via Floo to the Burrow. 

***  
Sirius’ plan to sneak away was foiled by someone noticing him which they then made a big deal about it. Sirius had tried to say he needed to be somewhere, that it wasn’t the time or place to be celebrating his return, but the person - a former Auror friend of his - refused to let it go. And with the scene the former Auror had made, more people came to greet Sirius. Finally, as the sun was sinking low in the sky, he was able to sneak away. He slipped an arm around Hermione’s waist, pulling her close to his side while she talked to Harry. 

“Can we go, Rocky?” He looked down at her with his big puppy eyes and Hermione felt herself go a little weak at the knees - or maybe that was just her imagination. “I’ve had enough people for someone who spent two years surrounded by ghosts.”

Hermione nodded and let him escort her back to Grimmauld Place. She noticed the way his arm lingered around her waist until he had shut the door at the house. It was as if she was his tether to the world - as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to drift away. He let go and started to head up to his room. “Um, Sirius?” He turned on the stairs. “Where are you headed?”

“My room, why?”

Hermione hesitated. “All my stuff is in there. Give me a minute to get my pajamas?” 

“I can take Reg’s room for tonight. We can switch tomorrow.” Sirius said with a shrug. 

While she had never thought too hard about taking up residence in Sirius’ bedroom before, now she realized how intimate it was. How she had said she had taken the room for other reasons - it was bigger than her old room, she liked the attached bathroom… all those superficial reasons that Remus had just accepted with a shrug and a nod. Those couldn’t be the actual reason, could they? Hermione shook her head. No, they probably weren’t. But for now, Hermione was just going to bask in the fact she had managed to get Sirius back. And get some sleep. She was exhausted. 

Sometime during the night, Hermione woke to find her feet pinned down and overly hot. Propping herself up on her elbows, she saw Padfoot was sprawled out at the foot of her bed, his shaggy head resting on her feet. She smiled and lowered herself back down carefully so as not to disturb Sirius and fell back asleep.   
***  
The next day Hermione didn’t mention finding Padfoot in her (his?) bed but when she offered to switch bedrooms Sirius refused. “I don’t need a lot of space. I’m fine with one of the spare bedrooms. Probably less bad memories anyway,” he had explained almost as a throwaway comment, going immediately back to his tea. 

It became their unspoken nightly routine. Sometime during the night, Padfoot would appear at the foot of her bed, sometimes closer to her where she could wrap her fingers into his thick, warm fur. And then each morning she would wake up with him gone. They would have breakfast together and each morning neither would speak about what had happened. And as the first week of Sirius’ return featured nearly a funeral a day, at the least, it only seemed fitting that they took their unspoken comforts where they could. 

Harry had really been the only one to understand their friendship before - Ron had noticed it but was jealous, Remus had noticed it and said nothing - but now that they were closer than ever, nobody said anything. Perhaps it was the overwhelming tide of grief that was making everyone drift away from one another. Or perhaps people didn’t say anything because they seemed to be right for one another and people were happy that they had found their own little oasis of calm. 

But even if nobody said anything, it was patently obvious to anyone with eyes that their relationship had been deepened, strengthened by Hermione pulling Sirius back from the Veil. Sirius nearly always made sure Hermione was within eyesight of him, if not touching her. A hand on her shoulder, an arm wrapped around her waist, a knee touching as they ate dinner, Hermione took it all in stride. 

By the month mark, Harry decided to say something. He and Ginny had found a place and so this was his first time returning to Grimmauld Place since the move. When he went to enter the kitchen he stopped short. Sirius was at the table, supervising some vegetables being peeled and chopped by magic, humming some old-time jazz tune. Hermione had her ridiculous hair up, a few frizzy pieces falling down from the messy bun, and she was swaying to his tune as she stirred something that smelled like curry. It was such a domestic sight - an intimate scene - that Harry felt like he was intruding. 

But then Hermione saw him as she turned to get the vegetables from Sirius. “Harry!” She greeted him brightly. “I didn’t know you were stopping by. Is everything okay? Ginny doing alright? Can you stay for dinner?”

“Great,” Harry momentarily stumbled, his task almost forgotten. “We’re all good. The new place is great - right next to a pitch where Ginny can practice. And no, I can’t stay. ”

“Still thinking of trying out for a team?”

Harry smiled brightly, thinking of his girlfriend. “Yeah, she is. We’re keeping it quiet for awhile, though. Mrs. Weasley is still…” the smile faded. “Just keep it quiet, yeah?”

Hermione nodded. “Sure.” She watched as Harry shifted from foot to foot as if impatient. She nodded at Sirius who turned around from his supervising.

“What’s up, pup?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry asked hesitantly. 

“I’ll finish the vegetables. Pick me out a white to go with the curry?” Hermione asked, indicating the wine cellar through the kitchen. 

Sirius nodded and lead Harry into the cool of the cellar. He started to look through the bottles of white wine, hoping that by focusing on anything other than Harry, Harry would feel comfortable enough to start talking. Sirius heard a deep breath and then…

“Are you and Hermione sleeping together?”

Sirius resisted the urge to drop the very expensive bottle of Sauvignon Blanc he was investigating and turned around. “It depends on what you mean by sleeping together,” he admitted carefully. 

Harry’s ears turned bright red. “Are you two...shagging?” He said the word as if he then wanted to rinse his mouth out with soap. 

“No. We’re not. I do end up sleeping at the foot of her bed as Padfoot most nights though.” Sirius didn’t feel the need to hide that fact from his godson. But as he watched Harry’s eyes narrow, he was starting to have second thoughts. 

“Hermione doesn’t have an older brother and she doesn’t have her dad anymore so I guess I’ll have to fulfill that role.” Harry got right in Sirius’ face and asked, “What are your intentions for my best friend?” 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sirius threw his head back as peals of barking laughter sprung forth. “Harry, you are going to be a great Dad someday.” 

Harry stepped back, surprised. “Really?”

“No doubt about it.”

“But in all…” Harry stopped. He was going to say ‘seriousness’ but decided the unavoidable pun was not called for. “Earnestness, I have to know. Because you have to have noticed that since you’ve come back as a younger Padfoot without the haunting look in your eyes, girls have started honestly ogling you. It’s a little creepy. And Hermione’s like my sister - the sister I might have had if…” Harry paused letting that thought sink in, “so I don’t want her to be hurt. And Remus told me stories - you were quite the flirt when you were younger. And really, if you must know, if it came down to her or you, I’d chose her. No questions.” 

Sirius smiled. “You are so much like James sometimes, Harry. That loyalty is something James held deeply too. There was a time when we were young - maybe third year - when Lily said she’d go out with your father if he stopped hanging around me and...Peter. Your dad said no. Said that maybe I was a bad influence on him, but we were his best friends and he wouldn’t give us up for a girl, ever. Hermione’s been with you from the beginning. It makes sense that you would choose her over me.” 

Harry sighed as if a weight had been lifted. “But Padfoot, don’t make me choose.” 

“You want the real, non-flip answer to your question about my intentions?”

“Yes,” Harry said, brushing some dust off of a nearby bottle. 

“She brought me back and I haven’t exactly heard the whole story of how she did that…”

“Oh, make sure you’re frozen or bound when she does. You’re going to be pissed,” Harry interrupted. 

“I’m sure,” Sirius said dryly. He glanced down and ran a hand through his hair before answering Harry’s question. “I don’t know, to be honest, Harry. I know we have a connection. Remus called it two broken people make a whole, which I guess makes sense.” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going to happen or where we’re going to end up. But I know what you’re worried about. And I can say honestly that she’s my best friend so I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.”

Harry nodded, feeling satisfied with his answer. “It makes sense. You two have been a lot closer since you came back. I did figure it was some sort of deepening of a connection that you had before the Veil, but I had to make sure you weren’t going to break her heart.” He glanced around the room, “Now we should probably get that bottle of wine before Hermione comes in looking for us.”

Sirius chuckled. “She can be a bit impatient, can’t she?”

Harry snorted, “You have no idea.”

***  
 _A Month Later_  
The funerals had ended (thankfully), Remus, Tonks, and Teddy had moved back into Tonks’ flat, and Hermione and Sirius had settled into an easy routine. They would have breakfasts and lunches separately but always cooked together for dinner followed by sitting close next to one another in the library. Sometimes Sirius slept, sometimes he read or wrote letters, and sometimes he just sat and watched Hermione read. Unlike with Krum, Hermione hadn’t found it that unnerving. Sirius was still very quiet about his time beyond the Veil and Hermione figured this was something that helped ground him. 

Tonight was no different - she was pouring over a newspaper in the library when Sirius came in, offering her a mug of tea just how she liked it. “What’s the reading material of the night?”

She held up the newspaper, “The Times and the Daily Prophet real estate sections,” accepting the mug gratefully. 

Sirius flopped down next to her. “Are we moving?” He didn’t even think about the fact that he had included himself in that sentence. After all, it was quickly becoming second nature to think of Hermione for every equation. 

“We?” Hermione raised an eyebrow over her mug. “I didn’t know there was a we.”

Uh oh. This could be the dreaded “What are we?” conversation Sirius had never enjoyed (honestly, had hated) in the past. 

“I was thinking of moving, yes. But since it appears you can’t sleep without me - Moony told me about the full moon,” she interrupted when Sirius raised a finger in protest “I guess we’re moving.” 

“Are you sure?”

Hermione shook her head with a chuckle. “About which part. The moving or the us of that equation.”

“Us,” Sirius said quickly, wincing at his honesty. “We’ve never talked about it.”

Hermione set down the newspaper, wrapping both hands around the mug. “No, we haven’t. Do you want to?”

“Honestly?”

“Always,” she supplied with a smile. 

“No, I don’t. Because whatever we have, it feels natural. And if we try to put a label on it, maybe it’ll force us into something we’re not ready for.” Hermione hummed her agreement and Sirius continued. “I know I can’t sleep without you, yes. And I could probably chalk that up to the Veil. But maybe it’s something else.”

“And you’re scared to find out.”

Sirius winced again. “No. I’m not scared. I just…” He exhaled loudly. “Are you happy, Hermione?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’d be happier living on your own?”

Hermione furrowed her brow, unsure. “I’ve never done it before so I wouldn’t know. Remus and I shared Grimmauld Place during the summers and then by the time he had moved out it was the war.”

“Do you want to...find out, I mean?” Sirius asked cautiously. He was hoping she would say no but this was Hermione, independent “I’m going to find a way to bring him back if it kills me or maybe just turns me into a Death Eater” Gryffindor all the way, Hermione. 

Hermione hid behind her mug for a moment, not wanting Sirius to scrutinize her every facial expression while she decided. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But not because I’m unhappy, Sirius. But because I’ve never done it. And I don’t want… I need to know how to be alone with myself without throwing myself into some project or mission or even breaking down.” She glanced at the discarded papers. “I need to remind myself that.” Hermione looked up at Sirius, hoping. “Does that...are you…”

Sirius closed his eyes and nodded. “I think we both need that. Probably me more than you, honestly. But I don’t want it to be a permanent experiment. For one thing, I don’t want you spending what’s left of your inheritance when you’ve got a perfectly good home here.”

“The one thing that’s got me hung up, though, is leaving you in this miserable old house. Will you let me at least decorate a bit before moving out so you have more than just the kitchen and the library to spend time in?”

“And our bedroom,” Sirius said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “But yes, love, you can decorate to your heart’s content. I even know a few charms that might take down the muggle pin-up girls in that room.” 

Hermione snorted in response. “Yeah, okay, Casanova. It’ll probably take me a month before I can find something and move in. That sound alright?” 

Sirius opened his mouth to say no, that he wanted her here, but he closed it, remembering a conversation Lily once had with him about women, not as a thing to possess or a thing to ensnare but a person to fill your life with and to have them fit into your life as you fit into theirs. And if you really love them and they need to go, you let her go. She might not come back, but if she’s anything with half a brain, she will. “Yeah, that sounds alright. And you’ll move back in by Christmas?”

“I’ll decide about moving back in by Christmas.” Hermione amended.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you sure you don’t need help, Hermione?” Harry asked as they walked back to Grimmauld Place, ice cream cones in hand. It was an abnormally warm day and Harry’s ice cream was melting faster than he could eat it. Soon the peanut butter-chocolate ice cream was tilting precariously and Harry scrambled to eat it before it fell to the ground. Hermione laughed at him - he looked absolutely ridiculous. 

“You think moving out on my own and starting my NEWTs courses might not be enough to keep me busy?” She chuckled, playfully bumping Harry’s shoulder. “It’s nothing like saving the Wizarding World from a raving lunatic, but it should keep me busy.”

“I’m not worried about you being idle. I don’t think you know how to be still. You even twitch in your sleep.” 

Hermione grimaced into her cone. “I don’t anymore. That was from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus.”

Harry had the decency not to apologize since he knew she hated it, but he did look a little sheepish. “What about you and Sirius?”

“What about us?”

“So you’re an us now?”

“You’re fishing, Harry.” Hermione huffed. “I don’t know what we are.”

“Are you okay with that? Cause I will totally go and break his kneecaps if…” At first, Hermione thought he was serious until his menacing look was replaced with chuckles that erupted into full belly laughs. 

“That’s not…” Hermione found herself laughing as well and sat down on the steps of Grimmauld Place. Harry slung an arm around Hermione and she leaned in. “You don’t have to worry about me, Harry. I’m an adult and I’m using this time to prove it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything, Hermione,” Harry said softly. “You could spend the rest of your life being a cat mom in your pajamas and I’d still think you were one of best people ever.” 

“I don’t know if I want another cat, honestly. Crookshanks might have been it for me.” 

“The point, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, is that you don’t have to prove yourself. To myself, to Ron, to Sirius, to anyone. And if you ever feel the need, then they aren’t worth your time.” He glanced behind him at the house. “But if we’re going to get you all moved in today, we need to get to work.”  
***  
The flat was miniscule - a studio with barely half a kitchen - but bright and airy. Hermione had charmed the walls a cheery light lemon, although one entire wall was hidden by books. Sirius had allowed her to take any books out of the Black Family Library that she wanted and she might have gone a bit overboard. “You’re packing books like you’re never coming back,” Sirius had said with a frown. She kissed his cheek without thinking and promised they would have dinner with each other at least once a week. She knew once her NEWTS studies started in earnest she wouldn’t be able to promise more than that.

Hermione had been living at the flat for two weeks, doing preparatory readings for her studies, and looking for a job. She hadn’t planned on looking for a job - her inheritance would last her these three months on her own, and it could help with the groceries when she returned to Grimmauld Place until she was able to get a true job. But then after the first week of sleeping alone with the memories, she knew she needed to keep busy. Hermione knew if Sirius wasn’t there to comfort her and keep the nightmares at bay, the only way to sleep was to work until she was too exhausted to dream. She’d done it before and she could do it again. 

She found a little apothecary that was open twenty-four hours that needed a part-time potioneer. The owner, a little old wizard, by the name of Robin, with a habit of calling everyone “sweetheart,” had been more than happy to agree to her request for odd hours around her classes. That first week after classes and the job had begun, Hermione had barely been able to change into her pajamas before collapsing into the bed, exhausted. 

Then, one night she thought she was dreaming when she felt a weight on her bed and then a cold, wet nose on her cheek. “Padfoot?” she asked sleepily. Padfoot gave a soft “whumpf,” and settled against her. He was still in the flat the next morning, making tea as he always had when the pair lived together at Grimmauld - evidence she had not been dreaming. “What are you doing here, Sirius?” 

“You missed our dinner. I had made a nice roast chicken. Finally, read some of those old cookbooks in the library. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He turned towards the kitchenette as Hermione sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“That was yesterday, wasn’t it?” She accepted the cup of tea gratefully. “I’m sorry. I was going to come over just after my shift but then I spilled bubotuber pus all over my clothes and I came back to change. I guess I sat down and…” Hermione’s eyes found the work smock soaking in her sink. She then realized she hadn’t changed into her pajamas and was in her bra and boy shorts. Trying not to spill her tea, Hermione yanked the sheet up to her chin, blushing.   
Sirius noticed her sudden blush and offered her a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re beautiful, Hermione, but if you’d be more comfortable, I’ll get us some breakfast so you can get changed.” 

Hermione hid her face in her tea to conceal her indecision, but it didn’t take all that long to make up her mind. “I’m… no one has seen my scars, Padfoot. And they’re…”

Sirius took the cup of tea away from her and sat down. He braced his legs against either side of hers and leaned forward. “Can I show you something?” 

Hermione nodded and Sirius pulled off his shirt. He waited until Hermione’s curiosity overcame her embarrassment and she looked up before speaking. “This one is where Prongs rammed into me one full moon when he was in a particularly foul mood,” he pointed to a puckered scar on his abdomen. Turning slightly, he pointed to another, “this was from when I got captured one time on Auror duty. Some Death Eater gave me a knife to the side when I dared talk back.” He took Hermione’s hand gently and placed it right above his left eyebrow where she felt an invisible scar. “And this one is from Mother. She pushed me into the mantle when I told her I was leaving for Mum and Da Potter.” He grasped both of Hermione’s hands, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. 

“So, Hermione, scars are souvenirs we never lose. They tell the story of how we survived.”

How did he know how to put her at ease, so easily? She leaned back from Sirius and shook her hands free of his. She then pointed to the nasty scar running across her torso. “This one is from Dolohov. He got me at the Department of Mysteries.”

She watched as Sirius’ eyes traced the scar. “This is when you…” he swallowed audibly before continuing. “I saw you fall. As I was fighting with my dear cousin. I didn’t know…”

Hermione moved on. “You couldn’t do anything. You were protecting Harry and we weren’t…” she shook her head, and pointed to the thin scar on her neck. “This one was from your dear cousin. She was threatening to slit my throat.” 

In front of her, Sirius seethed. She knew no amount of words would calm the rage, regret, and guilt he felt over all that had happened to both of them on account of one Bellatrix Lestrange. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. And when he kissed her, she closed her eyes and let him take her away from all the bad memories.  
***  
After that morning, Hermione tried to keep better hours so that they could still have their weekly dinners. Some nights she would nearly fall asleep in her meal, but then Sirius would just apparate her to her place, tuck her in, and sleep at her feet as Padfoot. 

“Come on, Hermione, you promised.”

“I did no such thing, Sirius!” Hermione stood in the doorway to the back garden of Grimmauld Place, hands on her hips. “I’m not going on that motorbike.”

“You will ride a thestral to the Ministry. You’ll ride a rogue dragon out of Gringotts. But you won’t ride a perfectly safe motorcycle?” Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Your logic needs some work.” 

“We Muggles call them ‘donor cycle.’ If you crash on one, you become an organ donor. No surviving.” 

“We’ll ignore the fact that you’re not a Muggle for just a minute. But what the bloody hell are Muggles up to that they’re giving each other their organs?!” Sirius looked truly horrified. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I forget how behind the wizarding world is in terms of medicine. You don’t give the majority of your organs up until you’re dead. I’m actually registered as a donor. But we’re getting away from the topic at hand.”

“Yes, and if you signed up to be harvested, you should be perfectly fine getting on a very safe with extra precautions, motorcycle.” 

They were two stubborn people and Hermione knew he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. “If I promise to get on that thing, and I hate it, will you promise me that you won’t pressure me to get on it again?” 

Sirius sighed dramatically as if weighing a major life choice. “I suppose I could make that sacrifice.”

“You are such a drama queen, Sirius Black.” 

“And yet, you still love me.” He froze. They hadn’t mentioned the “l” word yet. They weren’t even officially dating, although they hadn’t gone on dates (or even really looked at anyone else) with other people since Sirius had returned from the Veil. 

Hermione didn’t even blink. “Yes, I do love you.” She said it as if it was an everyday statement and not a declaration she hadn’t made before. 

“Good, because I am head over boots in love with you, Rocky,” Sirius said with a giant grin on his face. He closed the distance between the two of them, hugging her tightly. Pulling back with a soft kiss to her lips, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the motorcycle before she could complain. 

She spent the better part of the first few minutes eyes tightly closed, her hands clenched to the handles. Sirius felt solid behind her but Hermione couldn’t help but feel nervous. “If you open your eyes, it might be a bit more enjoyable.” Sirius’ deep voice rumbled against her ear. As she opened her eyes, Hermione realized just how high they were flying. It was as if she could have reached out and touched the stars on that cloudless night. 

“Do you want to try driving? It’s in cruise right now, but I can take it off and let you steer.” 

“Will I...I don’t know what to do.” 

“I’ll do the foot controls. The right handle controls how fast we go. Turn the handlebars to steer, just like a broom,” Sirius explained patiently. 

Hermione experimentally squeezed the right throttle and they shot forward. She squealed, surprised. Behind her, Sirius chuckled. “I’m not going to let us crash, love. Do whatever you want.” 

After a few tries, Hermione found the right balance and what speed she was most comfortable with. She hated flying so she had instantly thought she was going to be miserable, but she was actually having fun. She liked taking the bike on sharp corners at a speed that probably would have had their legs scraped if they were on the ground. When they finally did reach the ground, Hermione’s face was flushed, her eyes bright as she turned to Sirius who was trying to put his hair back in place. “Can we do that every night?” 

“So clearly you hated that.” 

“Just because you were right about this doesn’t mean you are right about everything,” Hermione huffed. 

“Let me have this moment, please?” He threw an arm around her, leading her into the house.   
***  
Hermione twisted the mug around, watching the brown liquid slosh back and forth with the movement. She was waiting for Ron, who per usual, couldn’t show up on time, and for some reason she was nervous. She and Ron hadn’t spoken much since the Final Battle. It wasn’t that there was animosity between the two, it was just that they hadn’t had much cause to talk. So when he had owled out of the blue and asked to meet for tea, Hermione had been surprised but agreed. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Ron bustled over to the table, pulling off his scarf, hat, and gloves making a pile of accessories on the table. “Kingsley came and was trying to give the world’s longest speech and so I couldn’t slip away.” He sat down with a thunk and took the second cup of tea from Hermione. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione held up a thick notebook, “been studying for my Transfiguration NEWT while I was waiting.” In truth, she hadn’t opened the notebook, but it had been her intention so that counted for something. “How’s Auror training going? Harry’s been so busy I’m surprised you were even able to slip away for tea.” 

“Madness, Hermione. It’s been madness. I come home, Maya makes me dinner, I shower, and I sleep only to do it all over again the next day.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Maya?” This was news. 

“I saw you after Sirius came back, after you brought him back, and I see how happy you two are - Harry’s always talking about how nauseatingly happy you are. And I realized, I wanted it too.” Ron shrugged with a goofy grin on his face. “Maya works in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement - she was registering us for Auror training and made a crack about redheads. I guess I was hooked from there.” 

Hermione let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and smiled at Ron. “I’m glad you found her, really. It must make the training easier, to come home to someone.” She sipped her tea with the smallest of smiles. “Sirius has made it easier for me, studying for my NEWTs. He’s like a cup of tea - comforting when you need it most.” 

Ron let out a large laugh. “You are so British, Hermione.” He shook his head, still grinning. “And I’m glad you have him. You two are good together. Even before he came back, I think we all knew.” 

“Remus called us two broken pieces making a whole.” 

“That sounds right. We’re all a little broken from the war.” Ron shook his head ruefully, “I guess it’s just finding the right person that’s broken in the right way.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Who are you and what have you done to Ronald Weasley?” 

***  
It was a chilly November day - the kind that made Sirius want to curl into a Padfoot-ball and sleep near the roaring fireplace all day. Instead, Moony had come to visit, looking rather serious. 

“Is everything okay Moony? Teddy and Tonks okay?” Sirius asked, offering his friend a chocolate bar in the hopes of staving off whatever bad news he must have. “I was about to put the kettle on. Want a cuppa?”

Remus accepted the chocolate with a smirk and nodded his agreement to the tea. “So, you’ve been quite busy I hear.” 

“Er… doing some redecorating and trying to perfect a hot-water crust pie, but that’s about it lately.” Sirius busied himself with the kettle, gathering two mugs from the hooks beside the stove. 

“Hot-water crust pie?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “How domestic.” 

Sirius barked out a laugh. “I get bored and the library has a strangely large amount of cookbooks. Figured I’d surprise Hermione with it for one of our dinners.” Sirius still felt uneasy - like there was some big secret about to be revealed and he wouldn’t like it. The war was over and although he hadn’t exactly gotten the full story out of Hermione, he couldn’t imagine it was something to do with either of their involvement in bringing down Voldemort. He hadn’t made any passes at Tonks (hell, he hadn’t even seen his cousin in a few months). He hadn’t forgotten Teddy’s birthday…

“So,” Remus began slowly, “a hot-water crust is the reason you missed the full moon two nights ago?” 

If not for the tea kettle whistling, the silence would have been deafening. Sirius opened his mouth to answer but shut it, knowing he didn’t have a good excuse. Well, he did, but whether or not Remus would see it as a good one...that was up for debate. Sirius finished the tea and placed the mug in front of Remus gingerly. 

“On a scale of James charming the chocolate to sing sonnets to you that Valentine’s Day to Snivellus calling Lily that word, how much trouble am I in?”

“Somewhere in between.”

“Closer to one than the other?”

Remus huffed. “Are you going to explain why you missed the full moon? Even with the Wolfsbane, it’s a lot easier to handle if someone’s there, and Moony has missed you. It’s like you’re a world away, Padfoot.” 

“I was at Hermione’s. I was helping her study for her Transfiguration NEWT. She’s decided to take that one a term early since Professor McGonagall was able to pull some strings.” 

“Hermione doesn’t need any help with Transfiguration, Sirius. She’s a bloody Animagus,” Remus growled. 

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, ducking his head to avoid Remus’ accusing eyes. “No, she doesn’t. But I like to keep her company while she’s studying. Practically the only way I see her now, anyway.” 

“And what about us, Padfoot? What about Teddy? You haven’t seen Tonks in months! Harry was over the other day complaining that it’s been hard to find you recently too. Hermione is not your only friend!” 

“She’s...she’s not just my friend, Moony,” Sirius said quietly. 

Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What did you say?”

“You have canine hearing, Remus. You heard me. She’s not just my friend. I love her. She loves me. We’re…”

“Will you go ahead and propose and have her move back in with you then?” Remus snapped in frustration, biting a large chunk off the chocolate bar. “So we can all see you again?”

Sirius’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “Propose?”

“Well, I imagined at some point you might have wanted to make an honest woman out of her.”

“We haven’t…” Sirius stuttered, “we haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh dear Merlin, you’ve got it bad, Pads.” Remus shook his head. “Possibly worse than I had it with Dora and that was pretty bad, I’m told.” He placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Marry the girl. You already know you’re not going to be happy without her. You either spend all your time with her at her place or work on your cooking skills for your next dinner together. Find her a ring - if it’s a family one for heaven’s sake make sure it’s not cursed - put it on her finger, and come back to us.”

“You’re probably right, Moony.”

“You know I am. I usually am.”

“Shut up,” Sirius said with a shove to his fellow Marauder. 

“So what’s the decision?”

Sirius let out a big breath and answered with a grin, “I’m going to ask Hermione Granger to marry me!”

From the room beside the kitchen, Tonks and Harry high-fived and muttered a thankful, “Finally!” and “Took him long enough!”  
***  
“And I think I got the last practical wrong - I couldn’t…”

“Hermione,” Harry groaned, “shut up. I’m sure you did just fine. I thought by skipping my last year of school I wouldn’t have to hear all about exams again.” 

“Please tell me you are not going to be staying at home living off of your inheritance and doing nothing productive for society?”

“I saved the Wizarding World. I figure that was productivity enough.”

“You…” Hermione wagged her finger, “cheeky devil.” 

“It got you to stop talking about the exam, didn’t it?” Harry grinned at her, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Now, we need to leave for lunch if you want to get any packing done before your date.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “And who said I was going to move back into Grimmauld? I quite like my little flat.” 

After Remus had convinced Sirius to propose, Harry and Tonks had been trying to give Hermione subtle hints that she should move back in. This particular meeting Sirius had given Harry the task of finding out Hermione’s taste in rings. Since Harry had been considering proposing to Ginny anyway, he figured it couldn’t be that difficult. “Would you mind having a quick lunch? I want your opinion on something.” 

“Sure, no problem. Where are we going again?”

“Belgravia,” Harry offered a hand, “I’ll side along you.” 

When they arrived in front of the Harry Winston jewelry store Hermione felt a little out of place. “Harry, could you have at least warned me so I didn’t wear ratty jeans and an old jumper?”

Harry grinned and shrugged, “You’re a witch, aren’t you?” Once Hermione felt comfortable in her transfigured clothing they entered the empty store. 

“Ah, Mr. Potter, how good to see you,” a man in a suit that probably cost more than Hermione’s parents’ house greeted them. “Back again?”

“Hello, Mr. Jones. Yes, I thought I would get the opinion of my best friend before selecting one.” 

The man offered a hand out, “You must be Miss Granger, then.” When Hermione gave hers in return he gave it a kiss before leading them to the back of the store. 

“Harry,” Hermione hissed, “how do you know a jeweler at Harry Winston? And what are we doing here?”

Harry tried to resist the urge to smirk. “I would think that would be obvious, Hermione. I’m going to propose to Ginny and I need help selecting a ring. As for how Mr. Jones and I know each other, well…”

“I believe you know my daughter, Megan Jones. She’s a big fan of badgers.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Oh!” He was a wizard. “This makes so much more sense now. Megan is a lovely girl, Mr. Jones. She was always willing to help the younger students find their way during the first few weeks of each year.” 

The jeweler beamed, “Yes, that’s my Megan. But enough about my prodigy. Now, Mr. Potter, you were supposed to find out Miss Weasley’s choice in metals. Were you successful?”

“She loves rose gold,” Hermione answered for him. 

“You’re a white gold or platinum girl yourself, aren’t you?” Mr. Jones asked, pulling out trays of rose gold rings. 

“Yes - I’ve never really liked yellow gold.” She missed the significant look between Mr. Jones and Harry and pointed to a ring. “That’s what I think Ginny would like most. She can like over-the-top things. Remember that singing valentine from your second year? Yep, that ring definitely screams Ginny.” 

“And you, Miss Granger, what about you?” Mr. Jones asked. 

“Quiet and understated but unique,” Hermione shook her head with a chuckle, “if that makes any sense. It probably doesn’t.” She shook her head again. “But I’m not getting married any time soon and we’re looking for Ginny, anyway.” 

“So is that the one, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Jones asked. 

“Yes, I think so.” 

As Mr. Jones went to get the paperwork, Harry turned to Hermione and surprised her with an observation, “You know I thought Sirius would have proposed by now.” 

“What?” Hermione opened and closed her mouth in shock. 

“You haven’t thought about it?”

“What?” Hermione gasped, “Sirius and I...married?” 

Harry rolled his eyes and after signing all the paperwork and thanking Mr. Jones, escorted Hermione out. “You seriously haven’t thought about it before?” 

“No, honestly, I hadn’t, Harry. I’ve been so busy with my NEWTs and just trying to get through each day that I haven’t thought about next week, let alone a lifetime.”

Harry stopped, putting a hand on Hermione’s arm to stop her. “Are you doing okay? We haven’t… I thought...god Hermione, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. We’ve been doing so many things - I mean, you’ve been training to be an Auror, I’ve been doing my NEWTs work and working and trying to figure out what the hell I want to do with my life and Sirius is…” She exhaled forcefully, “We’re going one day at a time. Some days are easy. Some days I am damn exhausted and can’t do much more than collapse into bed. And some days, not many, but more than I’d like, I can’t figure out how to fight the...the demons in my head and I end up taking more anti-anxiety potion than is probably safe.”

“I have nightmares,” Harry admitted quietly. “I wake up screaming sometimes. I’ve woken up Ginny more times than I can count. When she’s prepping for a big match she sleeps in a separate bedroom.” The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up as he shrugged. “Talking helps. Being busy helps. But I never experienced half of what you did.” 

“It’s not going to ever go away, will it?” Hermione said sadly, more as a statement than a question. 

“It gets better with time and the right person. It’s how I know Ginny’s the one. She quiets the storm in my head.”

“Sirius does for me too.”

“Then if he asks, marry him.” Harry grinned at her. “Let’s get you lunch and then get you all packed up.”   
***  
“Do you think she’ll say yes? Is it…” Sirius searched for the right word, and finding none, ran his fingers through his hair in nervousness. 

“Sirius, really?” Tonks shook her head. “That girl is head over heels in love with you. Yes, she’ll say yes. But do you want to practice?”

“On you? Would that help?” 

Tonks transformed her face to Hermione’s before answering, “Possibly?” 

“You know, no matter how many times you do that, it’s still creepy.” 

Tonks looked over her cup of tea at Sirius, her face briefly flitting from Hermione’s to Sirius’ and back. “And no matter how many times you say it’s creepy, it’s not going to stop me from doing it.” She took a sip and smiled at him, “I’ve got to get back to Teddy in a couple of hours so get on proposing.” 

A few hours later with Tonks gone, Sirius was trying to read the Prophet, though not with much luck. He felt more confident about his proposal - even making Tonks tear up at one point - but it didn’t mean he was any less nervous. “Calm down, Padfoot,” he muttered to himself. “You’ll give yourself away if you don’t calm down.” He had just finished his pep talk when Harry and Hermione came into the library. 

“Delivering your mademoiselle, as requested, Sirius,” Harry said with a smirk. 

“Are you not staying?” Hermione asked, surprised. 

“No, Moody’s going to kill me if I don’t finish some training paperwork tonight. Consider it an extra date night.” 

Hermione was disappointed - time with her best friend was precious since he was in such intensive training - but she wasn’t going to pass up a date night with Sirius. Sirius, for his part, also looked upset at Harry’s announcement. “Come back when you finish the paperwork? I was going to teach you a Muggle card game.” 

“Sure, no problem, Hermione,” Harry winked at them before heading off for paperwork.

“So,” Hermione said, turning to Sirius, “what did you make us for dinner?” 

“Your favorite - cheesy pasta bake with extra cheese.” 

Hermione moved to the cabinet to pull out some dishes, kissing Sirius’ cheek as she walked past. “You know me entirely too well.”

“And that’s why you love me.” 

“Jury’s still out on that one,” she smirked at him. 

He took the book off of the sideboard and handed it to her. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but after that comment, well, I think maybe it’d be better for you now.” 

“You got me a book?” Hermione turned the book over on its cover and chuckled. “You got me a book about the history of Rocky and Bullwinkle? That’s sweet of you Sirius.” 

“Open it - there’s something inside.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side but followed his instructions. Inside the book, there was a cut-out section and something hanging from a thin red ribbon. “Sirius Orion Black, you defaced and cut open a book?” She nearly yelled. 

“Yes, I did. But there’s another copy of that title sitting on your pillow for later.” Sirius chuckled - of course, Hermione would lose sight of the ring for the partially cut-up book. 

Just as he was about to mention it, Hermione noticed and dropped the book, the impact jarring the ribbon loose. “Shit!” Hermione dove after the skittering ring which had landed underneath a cabinet. 

With a wordless Accio, Sirius retrieved it and got down on one knee. “Hermione,” he paused, “I’ve got it. Stand up.” 

When she stood up Sirius began with a shaky breath. “There’s a saying, ‘I should have met you sooner, so I could love you longer.’ You brought me back, and so I get that chance to love you longer. And if you’d let me, Hermione Jean Granger, I’d want nothing more than to love you forever. Marry me. Rocky?” 

Hermione’s eyes were blurry with tears as she nodded. “Yes, Padfoot.” She laughed, nodding again. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.” As Sirius slid the ring onto her finger she was able to truly examine it for the first time. It was a thin platinum band with a pear-shaped diamond in the middle and three teardrop-shaped diamonds on either side. It reminded Hermione of a butterfly or a brilliant flower. Either way, it was perfect, and it was her. As Sirius sized it to her finger, Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes. Before she knew it, she was crying. 

“Hey, love,” Sirius brushed away a tear with a finger, “talk to me.”

“She said this would happen. That you would sweep me off my feet and we’d end up in some form of a happy-ever-after. She was right. And she doesn’t get to see it.” 

“I bet she’s somewhere having her own happily-ever-after where she can dance, Rocky.” Sirius pulled her in close for a hug. “Plus, I haven’t swept you off your feet yet!” He picked her up and swung her around and despite the momentary grief, Hermione laughed. When Sirius put her down he smiled down at her. “I am so glad she was a part of your life, Hermione. I really am. Without her, there wouldn’t be an us. We’ve had a lifetime of grief and she made sure we could have that day in the sunshine. Even if we live in England where the sun seems to never shine…” Sirius trailed off, still holding her at arm’s length. “You can be sad. That’s okay. But also be happy. Because from what it sounded like, this is what Alexia wanted - for us to be happy and together. I owe her everything. So tonight, let’s be happy, okay?” 

Hermione nodded, kissing him gently. “Let’s be happy then.” She glanced at the ring and then the table. “We forgot about dinner!” Hermione gasped. 

Sirius just chuckled. “Well, I happen to know someone who is excellent at warming charms.” Just then there was a knock at the door and Harry, Ginny, Remus, and Tonks came through the door. “I was told I was needed?” Tonks asked with a grin. 

“How did you…” 

“I may have put a special charm on the ring so that when you put it on it’d alert Harry.” 

“You little!” Hermione turned on Sirius, shaking a finger.

“You didn’t wonder why I made a giant casserole, love?” 

Hermione didn’t have an answer for that. 

“So, show me the ring?” Tonks asked. 

Sirius had to resist an eye roll. Tonks had seen the ring about a million times by now since he practiced on her. But Hermione extended her hand and both Tonks and Ginny oohed and awed over it. 

“You’ve got good taste, Sirius. Think you could teach Harry?” Ginny asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I might be able to do that, Gin.” 

***  
“You’re not even dressed! Hermione!” Ginny stood, hands on her hips in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. 

“Because I didn’t want to do this in the first place!” Hermione huffed. 

“Please, Hermione?” Tonks asked, “I didn’t have a chance to do this since we were in the middle of a war and when we were done fighting we had Teddy and… I need this night.” 

“Ginny’s practically engaged - why don’t you just wait for her hen do?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Because this is about you. You’re going to put on a slutty dress and we’re going to get you drunk because that’s what you do for your best friend who’s getting married.”

“Okay, but we’ve got to have a few ground rules. No strippers. No letting me fall into bed with some strange man. No letting me embarrass myself in a public place. In fact, don’t let me get piss drunk.” 

It was Tonk’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Go put on the dress I bought for you, Hermione.” 

Fifteen minutes later Hermione came down the stairs tugging at the hem of the dress. It was white with a tulip skirt that was entirely too short for her liking. “I feel like the v in this is going to pop open and I’m going to flash everyone. And I can’t wear a bra and…” 

“I thought of that!” Luna said from the corner. “I brought some dress tape. And your boobs are perky enough not to need anything more than the cups built into the dress.” 

“When did you get here?” Hermione asked, surprised, as Luna stuffed her hand down Hermione’s dress, placing tape so it wouldn’t gape. 

“When you were upstairs, changing.” Luna stepped away, appraising her work. “Ginny, you want to fix her hair?” 

Ginny nodded and with a flick of her wand, Hermione’s hair settled into gentle waves pushed to one side of her head. “Okay, let’s go.” 

A few bars and a few drinks later, Hermione was ready to go home, get into pajamas and make a cup of tea. She had been wolf-whistled at more times than she could count and while the free drinks were nice, it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it. “Please, can we go home?”

Ginny laughed, already tipsy. “No, Hermione, we’re just getting started.” 

“This isn’t me. I don’t wear short skirts and I don’t go out to bars and get plastered and I… I…” She missed the glances between the three women surrounding her. “I...can we just go home? Please?” 

“Sirius keeps a bottle or two of Ogden’s in a cabinet in the parlor. We used to drink after particularly bad Order meetings,” Tonks offered. She stood up, grabbing her coat. “We can drink that.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Ginny asked Tonks quietly as Hermione went upstairs at Grimmauld Place to change into pajamas. 

“I think we wanted a girl’s night so badly that we forget to take into account what Hermione wanted.” Tonks paused, unsure. “And I think Hermione’s been leaning on Sirius a bit more than we realized.” 

Hermione came downstairs with a smile on her face carrying a bottle of vodka in one hand and some raspberry liquor in the other. “Now this is more like it.” 

“So, get a drink or two in you, and then we have a few gifts for you to open,” Ginny grinned. 

“And in the meantime, shall we start with the simple questions?” 

Hermione looked up from the drinks she was mixing, “Simple? There’s going to be hard questions? About what?” 

Tonks snorted, “Yes.” 

Luna pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and started the round. “So this is an American game I found in a book somewhere, called ‘He Said, She Said.’” Luna paused for dramatic effect. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?” 

“I think it was Hermione,” Ginny said. “You’ve always been the emotional heart of all of us.” 

“Oh, no, I think it was Sirius. He can really be a softie with the right person,” Tonks offered. 

“Well, Hermione, who was it?” Luna asked with a smile.

“It was Sirius. I had just rescued him from the Veil and he picked me up and spun me around and told me he loved me.” 

“That’s…” Ginny started. 

“Adorable,” Luna finished. 

“Here’s what I want to know,” Tonks asked trying to contain her giggles, “is how he is in bed? I mean, I know he’s my cousin but…”

“You’re half a Black so it’s not exactly surprising,” Ginny said with her own giggle. “I’d sleep with him too.” 

“Tonks! Ginerva!” Hermione gasped. “That’s my fiance!” 

“Mmh,” Luna took another sip of her drink, “me too. Very yummy.” 

Hermione looked at her three girlfriends incredulously. “So, everyone wants to sleep with my future husband?” 

“Basically,” they all chimed in together. 

Hermione downed the rest of her glass. “Well, then…”

“How is he?” Ginny interrupted. “You didn’t answer Tonk’s question.” 

“I wouldn’t know. We haven’t…” Hermione coughed and tried again. “We haven’t had sex.” 

“Really? Why?” Luna asked. She sounded intrigued more than surprised. 

“Because it just hasn’t felt right.” Hermione shrugged. “We’ve been through a lot and sure, the snogging is great, but mentally… I just don’t think we’re ready.” 

There was some silence and then Tonks spoke. “I think that’s really smart. Remus and I jumped in before we really had a chance to figure it all out. And I will never, ever regret Teddy, but there are days I wished that I had waited.” 

“Harry and I waited. I’m glad we did. It made that night even more special.” 

“Right, enough deep questions, let’s get back to the games.” Tonks threw a bag at Hermione. “We each got you one. You have to guess which one of us bought which one.” 

“Got me what?” Hermione opened the bag, taking a peek at its contents before looking up incredulously. “You got me knickers?” 

Luna shrugged. “It was a suggestion from a friend at work. Plus, I made sure to charm them so they can disappear if Sirius says the right word.” 

Hermione snorted. “Great, just want I needed...knowing you, you probably made it some common word like… ‘off’ or ‘turnips,’ and I’ll find my knickers disappearing when he was just asking about dinner!” She pulled out the three pairs - one a pale blue, another a bright, vivid red, and a third a simple black one. The red one was more strips of fabric than actually a pair of underwear. “These are Ginny’s.” Hermione said confidently. 

“Guilty. I like buying slutty underwear, what can I say?” Ginny grinned into her drink. 

Hermione examined the blue boy shorts - there was some lace detailing at the top, although the ridiculous bow had been left off. They looked incredibly comfy, and ones Hermione could see herself wearing with a t-shirt (and nothing else) in the summer when it got too hot. She then turned to the black pair - they were bikinis, with a wide lace band on top. “I think the black ones are Tonks and the blue is Luna’s. You’re always hot, Luna, so I can imagine you wearing these around the house. I definitely will.” 

“Right again!” Tonks cheered. “Now, we have a few other games… Someone, get pouring some shots!”

***  
“How did you know Hermione was the one, Sirius? Or that Tonks was the one, Remus?” Harry asked at Sirius’ stag night. They were sitting at a table in the corner of Sirius’ favorite pub, The Hairy Dog, down the street from Grimmauld Place. Sirius had asked for a quiet night and Remus and Harry had obliged. They had a pack of cards to play gin rummy with but they had been abandoned in favor of their pints and conversation. 

“Are you having doubts about proposing to Ginny, pup?” Sirius asked, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“No, well...maybe? It’s only been Ginny, and I do love her. And I think I want to marry her but I don’t…” 

“You aren’t sure because you haven’t experienced anyone else?” Remus guessed. 

“Yes,” Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief. 

“When you see a fit bird on the street, what’s your first thought?” 

“Wow, she’s fit.” Harry answered automatically. 

“Anything else? Do you want to go up to her and ask her out? Snog her? Shag her? Curious about how any of those would be with someone like her?” Sirius continued. 

“No. I’m with Ginny! Why would I want to…”

Remus chuckled. “Harry, you are so like James sometimes. He knew he wanted to date Lily in...what, second year?” He looked to Sirius for confirmation. “And sometimes when we were out and about we’d point out girls - just ones on the street that we thought might catch his eye. And you know what he said? He would always say, ‘Oh, she’d be perfect for you Moony,’ or Sirius or any random bloke at Hogwarts that Prongs knew was single.” Remus took another sip, still chuckling. “He couldn’t imagine any woman being as beautiful as he thought Lily was.” 

“Did you...you dated around in Hogwarts, Sirius. Did you ever feel like that with anyone other than Hermione?” 

“Never. I enjoyed dating the girls I did at Hogwarts, but none of them could hold a candle to Hermione.” 

“What about you, Moony?”

“Once. I dated Maxim McKinnon our seventh year at Hogwarts. He was Marlene’s twin and a Ravenclaw. He was fiercely loyal - she could have been a Hufflepuff in that way. And he loved me. I could have seen us marrying and building a life together. But then we graduated and I got the mission from Dumbledore to try and recruit the werewolves. We had the biggest row about my going. Maxim said I was only doing it as a form of self-deprecation. He was probably right, to be honest. But I felt like it was the only way I could help the Order, so we broke up after that Order photograph was taken and I left for Estonia. Two weeks later he, his brothers Aidan and Torin, his sister Marlene and his parents were killed.” 

“So you can feel that way about two people? How do I know I won’t find another person? I mean, you had Maxim and now Tonks. Who is to say that I won’t have someone other than Ginny? And wait...you dated a guy?”

Remus shook his head, wishing this conversation could take a more pleasant turn. He hadn’t spoken about Maxim in years. It was an unspoken rule between him and Sirius not to mention him. “Yes, I am bi, as is Dora. But no, I don’t think you can. I loved Maxim, yes. And I probably would have settled into living together or something like it if we had survived the war. But I have a habit of settling. Maxim was amazing and he was good for me, but he was settling. We got comfortable and he didn’t challenge me the way Dora does. She pushes me to be the best dad, the best husband, the best person, that I can be every single day. And I want to do that for her, with her.” 

“Another way to look at it, Harry, is thinking about it this way. If you never met another woman in your life, do you think you would be upset? Or would you be happy because you had Ginny?” 

“I’m eighteen, Sirius. The rest of my life could be another hundred years.” 

“And Merlin forbid, it could be a few months,” Remus chimed in. 

“If Ginny died tomorrow - which she’s not going to do because she’s the most in-shape woman I think I’ve ever met - what would you regret the most with her? What do you think you’d wish you had a chance to say?” 

Harry started to answer and paused. “Telling her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” 

Sirius nodded. “That’s your answer.” He finished his beer and continued. “When I saw Hermione on the floor of the Department of Mysteries before I fell, all I could think was that I never told her I loved her. When I came back, it was the first thing I did. I didn’t want to take any chances. Sure, the proposing took a while longer - just to make sure she felt the same way - but the telling her that I loved her? That I couldn’t say soon enough.”


	10. Epilogue

Hermione ran her hands over the smooth satin of her dress, letting out a shaky sigh. Ginny noticed from behind her and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I never thought I would be getting married without my parents,” Hermione admitted. “I always thought my father would walk me down the aisle and my mother would be in here, giving me last minute advice and crying all the while. I’m so happy to be marrying Sirius but this is not exactly how I imagined it.” 

Ginny moved to face Hermione, holding her at arm’s length. “Hermione, do you really think you would have wanted anyone to walk you down the aisle? You went to Romania by yourself to join the Death Eaters as a seductress all so you could get Pettigrew’s memories and bring Sirius back. That’s not exactly the story of someone who needs or even wants someone to walk them down the aisle.” 

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want them here,” Hermione bit out. 

“Hermione, I…” Ginny tried but Hermione wouldn’t hear it. 

“Why don’t you go check on the guests?” Ginny nodded meekly and left Hermione, closing the door quietly with a click. It wasn’t that Hermione was particularly mad at Ginny, or even upset really. She just wanted a few minutes to herself. Everyone had been running around, asking her a million questions about what kind of cake and what kind of flowers and a billion little minute details that really, in the scheme of things didn’t matter. 

The sound of someone knocking on the door and a gentle, “Rocky?” broke Hermione out of her thoughts. “I’m blindfolded; I can’t see you. Can I come in?”

“Take off the blindfold, Sirius. You know I don’t care about that.”

“But I do. And I want to be surprised when you walk down the aisle here in a few minutes,” Sirius said as he shut the door behind him. A blue silk handkerchief was tied tightly over his eyes. He reached out to Hermione. “I really can’t see Rocky, can you come towards me?”

Hermione huffed, “You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that, Sirius Black?” But she humored him and placed her hands in his. 

“But you still love me, Hermione Granger. Ginny said you were upset?”

“Everyone has been so obsessed with planning this wedding that they seem to have forgotten we fought a war and we lost… I lost so many people.”

“It’s been a depressing past year, Hermione. We’ve gone to far, far too many funerals than we should have for anyone of our ages. A wedding is a happy occasion. And you can’t blame Mrs. Weasley - she lost a son - so she decided to throw herself into the planning.”

“But nobody seems to remember who _I’ve_ lost, Sirius!” Hermione was nearly hysterical.

Sirius sighed, rubbing his hands up and down Hermione’s bare arms. “Is this about your parents or is this about Alexia?” 

At the mention of the ballerina, Hermione let the sob she had been holding back break loose. “She’s gone because of me. She’s dead because… she did everything for us. To get you back, Sirius and to bring Voldemort down, in her own way.” She crumbled against Sirius’ shoulder, not even caring about her makeup or her hair or her dress or anything really other than truly feeling the crushing grief. 

Sirius backed up until he reached the bed and sat back, bringing Hermione with him. “I’m here, I love you, and I am not going anywhere.” He repeated the mantra over and over into Hermione’s hair until he heard her breathing slow and felt her sag in his arms. Pulling back slightly, he gave a small smile. “Better?” 

“It still hurts,” Hermione admitted in a small voice. 

“And it’s going to. But Alexia was sick when you met her and she knew she was dying. She wanted to help us. She wanted you to be happy. So maybe it won’t be okay today, or tomorrow, or even the next day. But eventually, you’re going to wake up next to this stud muffin and realize you’re happy.” 

Hermione snorted, “Stud muffin?” 

“Got you to laugh, right?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, then realized Sirius couldn’t see her reaction. “Yes, it did. Okay, let’s do this thing. Give me a few minutes to fix my face and let’s get hitched - the squirrel and the stud muffin,” she said with a laugh. 

Less than an hour later, Sirius was standing at the front of the aisle, eyes wide as he took Hermione’s appearance in. It was a simple dress from the front - a princess-seamed bateau-neckline satin sheath. The back was a halfback with a cowl before flaring out behind her in a small train. It was classic and utterly Hermione. Although Sirius had told Hermione he loved her wild hair on more than one occasion she had taken it upon herself to smooth and charm it into a simple chignon resting at the nape of her neck. She was completely herself and yet, Sirius thought he had never seen her more beautiful or radiant.

When she reached the end of the aisle she handed the bouquet of pink-orange tulips with three white roses (one each for Alexia and her parents) to Ginny and took Sirius’ sweaty hands. There were no traces that just a bit ago she had been sobbing on his shoulder. No, in fact, the only thing Sirius could see in her eyes was contentment. 

When they got to reading their vows, Hermione began first. “I promise to love you without question, to encourage your playfulness, to always, always fight for you, and to continually chase and tease you both as Rocky and as your wife. I promise to never feed you radishes and to always have dog treats for when you get a craving. I promise to be there every day so that you never have to feel the cold again. And most of all Sirius, I promise to love you until dogs cease to bark at squirrels.”

Sirius grinned as he started. “There is a saying, ‘I wish I had met you sooner, so I could love you longer.’ And for us, we got that second chance at longer when you brought me back. I promise to love you without condition with everything I am and everything I will be. I promise to hold you when you cry. I promise to steal your book or work away when your eyes are glazing over. I promise to always make sure the kettle is on and there’s Yorkshire and chamomile tea in our cupboards. I promise to never make you eat radishes. I promise to have a stash of nuts in the house, though you and I both know we’re nutty enough not to need them. I promise to tease and chase you as Padfoot. And most of all Hermione, I promise to love you until squirrels cease to taunt dogs.” 

Even though Sirius would never admit having cheated and glanced at Hermione’s vows, there was something to be said for the similarity of their vows. And since Sirius and Hermione both had insisted on a very small, intimate guest list, everyone who attended knew the meaning of the squirrels and dogs mentioned. After the war, Hermione had chosen to register her animagus form, but still few knew she had the skill.   
Kingsley smiled at them both, though neither noticed. “Well then, by the power vested in me by the Ministry, I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Black!” 

The small crowd cheered and clapped as Sirius dipped Hermione, kissing her much more deeply than probably should have been in public. “Get a room, you two!” Remus called out. Sirius returned Hermione to a standing position and grinned wolfishly at his best friend. “That’s the plan, Moony.” 

Hermione swatted Sirius on the arm. “Behave.” 

***  
They honeymooned in Spain, hopping from town to town enjoying the sunshine and the food. They took to touring in the morning and sleeping in the afternoon before going out for dinner late. In each town they found a park to be Padfoot and Rocky. They received more than one comment from passersby when, after a long chasing session, Rocky would curl up against Padfoot’s stomach and sleep. 

Hands clasped as they walked along the streets of Madrid as the sun was setting, Sirius broached a topic they hadn’t touched the entire trip. “Hermione, what are you going to do now that you’ve got your NEWTs? I mean, I can easily support us on my inheritance, but I imagine you will want to work.” 

Hermione had given it a lot of thought. When she had chosen to do her NEWTs after the War she had broached the idea with Professor McGonagall. The woman had declared it an insane plan, but considering the person, the Scot knew she would have no problems succeeding at. “I was thinking of going to Muggle medical school.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Okay, I’ll bite. And do what?”

Hermione chuckled at his phrasing. “You always bite. I swear, I’ve never known someone more dog-like.” Wrapping her arm around his she continued. “Alexia can’t be the only witch or wizard who contracted a Muggle disease. But in order to work to heal them, I have to understand the Muggle diseases first.” 

He nodded, “That makes sense. So Muggle medical school and then what?”

“I’d probably have to apprentice with a research Healer.”

“And then?”

“Sirius,” she groaned, “it’ll probably be ten years before we get to that next step.”

“Hermione Granger-Black, you have had everything planned out since the moment Minnie gave you your Hogwarts letter. I am sure you’ve got a plan.”

“Well…” she began sheepishly. 

“What is it?”

“I want to start a clinic for Squibs like Alexia. So they can get the care they deserve.” 

Sirius grinned, kissing the top of his wife’s head. “That sounds perfect and exactly like something you would do. You always did have the bigger heart of the two of us.” 

Hermione smiled softly up at him. “It’ll be a lot of work and a lot of money. Are you okay with that?”

Sirius shrugged. “I told you I’d love and support you for forever. Forever hasn’t come yet.”

***  
The plan took a little detour. Halfway through her first year of medical school, Hermione got a bad case of the flu. Or at least, what she thought was the flu. 

“You’re pregnant,” Harry said over Hermione’s shoulder as yet another meal ended in the toilet. 

“No, I…” Hermione was about to deny the possibility but as she thought about it, it made sense. “Oh, god. I’m…” She performed a quick spell scan and sure enough, a little cloud heart appeared, beating out a fetal heartbeat.

Harry grinned at her, “Told you.”

“Rocky, you okay in there?” Sirius called from behind the bathroom door. 

Hermione threw her hair over her shoulder, stood up, opened the door and proceeded in her sternest tone. “Sirius Orion Black, you got me pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, Rocky. I just wanted to make sure...wait…” Like watching a piano hit the pavement in slow motion, Hermione, and Harry behind her, watched in amusement as what Hermione said registered. “I’m going to be a dad?”

Hermione laughed. “Yep, Sirius. You’re going to be a...woof!” she exclaimed as the air left her lungs when Sirius crashed into her, swinging her around. “Padfoot put me down!” 

Her pregnancy was a smooth one. She continued taking her classes, her due date coming a few weeks after the final exams of the semester. As they discussed names, Hermione had only one in mind if it was a girl. “Can we name her Alexandrina, Sirius?”

“And call her Sasha? And for a boy...what would you think of Leo?”

“I like that. It keeps with the family tradition without being too out there. Plus, it’s perfect for a little Gryffindor-to-be.” 

In the end, it was a little girl. Hermione had gone into the beginning stages of labor as she had been finishing her last exam. She had waved off any help until she had quadruple-checked her answers and then allowed someone to call Sirius who escorted her to St. Mungo’s. Little Sasha Jean Black had a full head of black curly hair and piercing blue eyes. It was obvious she was a Daddy’s girl from the get-go. She refused to be calmed by Hermione or Rocky. All she wanted was Padfoot, so much so that her first word was “Pads.” 

***  
When Sirius entered the library he was greeted with an adorable sight. Hermione had Sasha resting on her chest, a burping cloth draped over her shoulder. It looked like Hermione had been reading but had fallen asleep. The book was face down on the carpet near the couch, as if she had been reading but had fallen asleep. He knew she was exhausted. She had started back at classes last week and while Sirius had taken the majority of daughter-rearing duties during the day, Hermione was beginning to crack. 

He kneeled down on the ground next to his two girls and gently picked up Sasha, putting her against his chest. 

“Hmmm? Padfoot?” Hermione murmured, waking slightly from the loss of the weight on her chest. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after seven. I’ll give her a bottle and put her down, okay?” He kissed Hermione’s forehead and stood up. “And tomorrow, when you’ve had a bit more sleep, we should probably talk about your schedule.” 

“Just tired, Sirius. I’ll be fine in the morning.” 

Sirius snorted as quietly as he could so as not to wake his daughter. Hermione would not be fine in the morning. She’d already fallen back asleep before he even opened the door and left. He wasn’t surprised when Hermione, hair thrown in a loose braid, walked into the kitchen the next morning, eyes nearly shut and poured herself a cup of tea. She poured some milk in, stirred in some sugar, and continued to the table, eyes still nearly shut. 

“Good thing you have been living here long enough to have muscle memory or that tea would end up all over the floor or you’d end up with burns.” Sirius said with a chuckle. 

“Shut the fuck up, Sirius. You don’t need to tell me I look like shit and haven’t been getting enough sleep.” She growled into her tea. 

Sirius moved over to her, kissing the top of her head. “Rocky, I love you and I should know better than to talk to you before you’ve had your tea. So once you’ve finished a cup or six, then we can talk.” So he sat quietly next to her, reading the Prophet. Six cups of tea later, Hermione had her eyes fully open and caught Sirius’ attention. 

“Okay, let’s talk.” 

“You may be the strongest and most brilliant and sexiest woman I know, but you are not Merlin and you can’t do everything.” 

“I am not hiring a nanny.” Hermione had been dead-set on that particular topic every time Sirius had broached it. 

“What if we hired a house elf? We would pay her of course. She could help with the housework, the cooking, and with Sasha. James’ parents had several house elves and one - Mipsy - doted on James like he was her own.” 

Hermione considered it for a moment. Harry and Ginny had hired Dobby after the birth of their first, James, and all things considered it had turned out to be a perfect arrangement. 

“There’s another reason I want you to consider getting help,” Sirius interrupted her thoughts. “I’ve been offered a job. And I’d like to take it.” 

“What? I didn’t even know you were looking!” 

“I wasn’t. Harry and I had lunch yesterday and he offered it out of the blue.” 

“What is it?” 

“Auror trainer - teaching them the skills they’ll need to be great Aurors but only in the classroom.” 

“No missions?” Hermione worried on her lip and Sirius took her hand. 

“No missions. I’ll be home every night in time for dinner.” 

“Do you want to?” Hermione still looked nervous. 

Sirius sighed. “I love you, and I love Sasha, Rocky. I love you both so much. But I’m feeling a bit cooped up here. Being a Dad to Sasha is such a privilege, but I want to do more.” 

“You didn’t say anything!” Hermione exclaimed. “How long have you felt like this?” 

“About two months. It was easier when you were home because we did things as a family, but now that you’re back in school I see you out doing amazing things and I…” Sirius struggled for the right words and it was only Hermione squeezing his hand that allowed him to continue, “I feel inadequate. I want to be that amazing for you, for Sasha, Rocky.” 

“You are amazing, Sirius. But you don’t sit still well. And so let’s try it. We can put an ad in the Quibbler for a house elf - Dobby says all the elves read it - and try that out. And then you can start at the Ministry.” Hermione took a deep breath. “But you have to promise me something.” 

“What?” 

“Well, actually, a few things. One, no missions. And two, you will always take off on our children’s birthdays to celebrate them. Three, I get you on the weekends. And finally, four - you won’t let the house elf do the major parenting. We are still Sasha’s parents and that won’t change when Mipsy or Mopsy or Cottontail comes to help out.” 

Sirius grinned. “Deal. Absolutely deal.”  
***  
 _Eight Years Later_   
“Dad, I can’t see!” Leo whined, pulling on his father’s sleeve. 

“Sasha can you…” Sirius didn’t have to finish the question. With a roll of her eyes and a huff, Sasha took baby Helen so that Leo could climb on Sirius’ shoulders. 

They were at the opening of the Granger-Jugson Clinic for Squibs and Muggle Maladies and Hermione was getting ready to make a speech. Hermione had offered to let them sit on the platform where other dignitaries sat, but Sirius had refused. The youngest of the Granger-Blacks was barely six months old and Sirius didn’t want her to interrupt Hermione’s speech with her piercing screams. (Harry had called her Howling Helen last time he and Ginny had visited.) He and Hermione had only planned on having two children but Sasha and Leo had been easy enough that when she found herself pregnant again, they had shrugged and decided to be parents once more. 

“Welcome, everyone,” Hermione began. “Ten years ago, I met an incredible young woman - Alexandrina Jugson. Alexia, as she would correct anyone who tried to call her by her full name, was amazing - an English-Romanian who loved ballet and dance more than anything. She had a fierce determination that saw her through all the challenges life threw out at her. And life certainly threw her challenges. She was diagnosed with leukemia - a Muggle blood disease. As a Squib, she was not protected from some of the Muggle diseases as those of us with magical capabilities. But, as a Squib, she had enough magic in her blood that it rejected Muggle treatments. She is the reason we are here today.” 

Hermione took a deep breath. Even ten years later, with everything good that had happened in her life and everything Alexia’s death had brought about, it was difficult for Hermione to talk about Alexia with people other than Sirius or Harry. “Alexia saved the wizarding world in her own way, getting Peter Pettigrew’s confession in her dying breaths. In her seventeen years, she made such an impact. Imagine what impact she could have had if we had had a cure for her leukemia? That’s why we’re here. Just because you are a Squib or have a Muggle illness, does not mean you are not a part of our great magical community. Just because you are a Squib or have a Muggle illness does not mean that you do not deserve world-class medical care. It does not mean that we shouldn’t research every aspect of these diseases. I have studied at a Muggle medical school; I have completed the training to be a Healer. With this knowledge, and with your help, I offer my dedication, my experience, and my hope for whatever illnesses plague the Squib community. I promise to work tirelessly to make sure that no sister, brother, aunt, uncle, husband, wife, or parent has to see someone they love suffer simply because they have a Muggle disease and we are a wizarding community. I couldn’t save Alexia, but this clinic, named in her honor, will work to make sure that the next Alexia that comes around can be saved.” 

Hermione stepped away from the podium, taking the ceremonial scissors and with a huge smile, she cut the ribbon and stood back to let people enter the new clinic, her fourth “baby,” as Sirius had called it. Sirius with Leo on his shoulders, and Sasha holding Helen hung back until the majority of the crowd had dispersed to explore the new building before greeting Hermione. 

She took Helen from Sasha, gently placing her on her hip. “So, did I do okay? I was worried… we’ve gotten some bad press and so I had to add that part in about Squib equality and…”

Sirius just smiled at her and kissed her forehead. “It was fine, Rocky.”

“Yeah, Mum. I thought you sounded good,” Sasha said from beside Sirius. 

“Thanks, love.” Hermione beamed down at her eldest. “I made sure the builders added an extra desk area for you three, should you want to do your primary school homework at the clinic, or when Dad is at the Ministry.” 

Leo ran over to the desk, examining the notebooks, pens, and various school supplies set up on the desk. And without another thought, he pulled out a book from the bottom shelf and began to read. 

Sirius chuckled. “He is so your child.”

“I’ll go to Dad’s work. Uncle Harry said they’ve put in a mini quidditch pitch to practice dodging jinxes and hexes while in the air! Uncle Ron said he’d let me practice by throwing some tickling jinxes my way!” Sasha bounced on her toes at the thought. She totally missed the look Hermione and Sirius shared. 

“And she’s clearly yours,” Hermione retorted to him.   
***  
 _Eleven Years Later_  
“Mum, Dad, can I talk to you?” 

“Of course, Helen.” Hermione set down the book she was reading as Sirius set down the Prophet. 

“Did you get the results from St. Mungo’s?” 

Hermione and Sirius exchanged glances before Hermione started, “Yes. And honey…”

“I’m a Squib.” The way Helen said it so matter-of-factly surprised both her parents. 

“Yes, darling. You won’t be going to Hogwarts in the fall. But it doesn’t mean we are any less proud of you than we are of Sasha or Leo. You are our beautiful, kind, smart, artistic daughter, and we love you.”

“It’s really okay. Because something came up and I wanted to…” Helen revealed a stack of papers she had been hiding behind her back. She reached out with her long arms and handed them to Sirius, pushing a strand of black wavy hair behind her ear. “There was a scout at ballet class last week. Apparently, Madam Viola had submitted an application for me.”

“A scout for...what?” Hermione asked, puzzled. 

“The Royal Ballet,” Sirius answered. “She’s been invited to audition for the Royal Ballet training school.” 

“I know it’s expensive, Mum, but I could still live at home and take the Tube. At least for awhile - and then maybe if I’m good enough to get into the Upper School, I could live there?” 

“Is this what you want, Bear?” Sirius asked, using his nickname for her. “You want to be a ballerina?” 

Helen nodded enthusiastically, her ponytail bobbing with her head. “Yes, Dad. It’s what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. I just felt like I was supposed to go to Hogwarts. I mean, Mum is so smart and she was always encouraging us to read. I thought that was my only option.” 

“Come here, Bear,” Sirius set the paperwork down, and gently pulled her into his arms. “Your mother and I have pushed you academically because we wanted you to be the best you can be.” 

“Dad, I can be a great ballet dancer. I know I can.” 

Over her head, Sirius caught Hermione’s eye and she nodded. “Then you’ll be a great ballerina. Our ballerina. And no matter what, we’ll be proud of you.”   
***  
 _Three Months Later_  
Hermione and Sirius had just dropped off Helen at the White Lodge in southwest London where she was to be a boarder and a student. Sirius had convinced Hermione that it was for the best for Helen to live on campus instead of at home. He said that she would get to spend more time with her friends and forge the type of intense friendships that only a boarding school could make. Although Hermione agreed with him, it didn’t make the parting any easier. 

Standing in their park, Sirius’ arm draped around Hermione’s shoulder as they watched the sunset, Sirius sighed. “I guess it’s just us now. I can’t believe it. That house is going to feel so empty.” He chuckled as a thought popped up, “But I suppose now we can walk around naked all the time and have sex wherever we want.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about?” 

“No. I think about how lucky I am. That you fought and pulled me back. And that I married you and we had three amazing children - one of whom takes after your Alexia.” Sirius pulled her closer. “We have had such an amazing life together Hermione, and I am ready for the next chapter.” 

“We haven’t played as Rocky and Padfoot in awhile. Maybe we could do that before we move on to that next chapter?” Hermione turned to him. 

“Absolutely, my love.” Sirius grinned and transformed. Hermione quickly followed suit and she tore off towards a tree, Padfoot at her heels barking in a way that sounded like laughter. 

A Muggle couple sitting on a bench in the park smiled at the sight of the squirrel and dog playing. “You know, I think that squirrel and dog are friends, John,” the woman said. 

“Maybe, Nora,” the man mused. “Maybe. They certainly seem to be having fun.” 

And they were. And they did. Hermione and Sirius continued to be madly in love and continued to have fun. They traveled the world, they attended their children’s various graduations and award ceremonies, and when Sasha got married and had her first child, a daughter named Celeste, Sirius and Hermione were right there, laughing, joking, and loving on their first grandchild. They teased their numerous godsons and goddaughters and they continued to be both lovers and best friends up until the moment they died, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you've enjoyed reading this just as much as I have writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all for reading the first chapter of "Sooner, Longer"! I've very much enjoyed writing it and I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Kudos, reviews, follows, bookmarks - however you show your appreciation I'm happy.


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